


Flashing Lights

by des_nuages_de_paris



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Dialogue Heavy, Fashion & Couture, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Model Anakin Skywalker, Obi-wan is scared of commitment, Oral Sex, Photographer Obi-Wan Kenobi, Pretty Boy Anakin Skywalker, Rimming, Rough Sex, photographer/model au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:42:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25057897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/des_nuages_de_paris/pseuds/des_nuages_de_paris
Summary: “What about the scar?” Obi-wan motioned at Anakin’s cheek.The makeup artist shook her head. “It’s too deep.”Obi-wan examined it slowly. “If you can’t cover it up, emphasize it.”Mace cocked his head. “Are you sure? The company didn’t ask for-”“Trust me.” Obi-wan turned to him. “It’s better than photoshopping it out. It gives him an edge. The scar, the hair, the brows…” He looked back over at Anakin, feeling his stomach flip. “It makes him look tough. Not enough male models can be pretty and tough.”“So I’m pretty?” Anakin grinned.Obi-wan just responded with an eyeroll.(Photographer/Model AU, Tags Added with Updates)
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 41
Kudos: 358





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a self-indulgent AU. I am in love with the fashion industry and have friends who are models that I'm using as reference. Some of my biggest inspirations for this AU include models like Coco Rocha, who Padme is based off of, and Filip Timotijevic, who Anakin's posing style is loosely based off of.  
> I hope you all enjoy!

_“When words become unclear, I shall focus with photographs. When images become inadequate, I shall be content with silence.”_   
— Ansel Adams

“Raise your leg higher. Higher. Good...relax your face.” The photographer kneeled down low and angled his lens upward. “Okay, good. Right. And…” _Click. Click. Click._ “Perfect. You can relax now.” He smiled gracefully at his model before turning around to return to his laptop. He clicked through the photos as they slowly started to show up on the screen. He thought hard as he looked through them. “Hmm...Still missing something.”

He sat back on his heels and looked over the set. The model, a trained dancer, was standing near a chair against a cream background. Flower petals littered the ground. Her heather grey leotard gripped her boney body with ease. She was gorgeous, because of course she was, but things weren’t clicking yet. Obi-wan hadn’t reached the _peak_ yet. He hadn’t found a way to cross that secret barrier yet.

“Obi-wan.” A voice warned from across the room. A blonde woman stood there, wrapped in a blue chiffon shawl, and tapped her watch with her light pink acrylic nail. “You can’t keep my model all day. She has a dinner.”

“Just trust me.” Obi-wan waved her off.

She rolled her eyes and leaned against the pillar again. A small smile played on her lips, though. She watched as Obi-wan propped his hand against his chin. His blue eyes were searching, sneaking, investigating. He was trying to find _it._ “Go easy on her, Kenobi, she’s still new to this.”

“Here.” He said finally. “Satine, can you put on some music please?”

“Music is playing.” She teased.

“You know what I mean.” He waved her off again.

Satine walked over to the old stereo sitting in the corner of the studio. This man had all the best camera equipment money could buy, but couldn’t excuse the purchase of a single Bluetooth speaker. “I actually don’t.”

“What do you like, love?” Obi-wan asked the model.

“Oh.” She seemed shocked she was being asked. “Um...I guess I like that chill hip-hop stuff? You know what I mean?”

He shook his head but smiled. “Not at all.”

“I do.” Satine giggled, switching the music from the slow old-school synth to the fun, upbeat music of today that was lost on Obi-wan. 

He didn’t hate it, though. He started nodding to the beat and then finally turned to his model. “Okay. Now - dance.”

The model glanced over at Satine, then back at him. “Really?” She chuckled nervously. “I can go get my pointe shoes if-”

“No, no. Not like you usually do. You’re a wonderful ballerina, love, but I just want _you.”_ Obi-wan got back down on the ground with his camera, adjusting his lens with a steady hand. “I just want you to dance how you would in your kitchen.”

“Kitchen?”

“Bedroom. Shower. Living room. You know what I mean. Dance like you would if no one is watching.”

She looked over at Satine again. She only responded with a nod.

The model closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly started to get into the music. Obi-wan started to nod with every move of her body. Finally. _It_ was coming. He could feel it. The model started to sway, go up on the balls of her feet, and raised her arms above her head.

 _Click._ She moved her hips. _Click._ She spun. _Click._ She started to use the chair as a prop. _Click. Click._ And there it was. Obi-wan smirked from behind the lens and started to shoot rapidly as the model was twirling and laughing and moving around. She was looking like herself, or what Obi-wan could only assume was herself: fun, free, and young. She was barely not a teenager. She was finally acting like a real teenager. And it made her spirit shine in the photos.

There it was. Her _it._

After he found _it,_ it was like he fell into a shooting trance. It was easy for him to move around the set, stand and squat, do whatever he needed to do to capture what he needed to. Moments like these reminded him of the old superstitions from decades ago, how cameras steal souls. And maybe it was true when it came to _it,_ because _it_ allowed the person to live inside the photo. Live inside the page. Maybe it _was_ a part of their soul. It certainly looked like it.

Not everyone was meant to pose. Not everyone was meant to stand still in front of a camera - and dancers _certainly_ weren’t. Obi-wan stood by that, no matter how his colleagues might disagree. Looking at Obi-wan’s award-winning track record, it didn’t bother him if someone disagreed. It worked. Why argue over it?

“Wonderful as always.” said Satine. She approached him while the model was off changing, standing to his side and smoothing her robe over her dress. She reached over his shoulder and pointed at one of the images on the screen. “That one. I want that one.”

“That’s not my first choice.” 

“Well, it’s mine.” She said. “Star it.”

He did. “So, are you going to that dinner with her? Or are you free?”

Satine raised her eyebrow at him. “I’m free. Why?”

“I’m tired of eating alone.”

“You know we aren’t doing this again.”

“And you know this isn’t a date.” Obi-wan smirked. “Come on. I want a real meal.”

Satine finally cracked a smile. “Okay, okay. But I pick where.”

She ended up choosing a French restaurant, a little deeper into the downtown district of Coruscant. Obi-wan was more familiar with the midtown areas - the ‘nicer’ art districts. This was Satine’s territory. Satine loved the sparkle of downtown. She moved there the moment her and Obi-wan split eleven years ago and never looked back. He moved there eventually, to be closer to work - but that didn’t mean he actually cared about it.

He didn’t care about it because most places downtown were lacking heart. All of the chrome, all of the minimalist architecture. Black and white. Straight lines. Cubed buildings. Coruscant was a beautiful city but it could get too overly-innovative or overly-intuitive. It was all ‘futuristic’. That’s why Obi-wan never wanted anyone to come over - even he was sick of how modern his place looked. 

This restaurant was no different. 

“Watto’s?” Obi-wan narrowed his eyes at the menu.

That made Satine giggle. “What? Can’t read the menu?”

“You know I’m fluent in French.” He frowned. “I’m more confused about the choice of name and choice of cuisine. Sushi options at a french bistro?”

“It’s modern.”

“It’s stupid.”

“Maybe it is stupid, but escargo goes surprisingly well with wasabi.”

“I have to disagree with every single thing you just said.” He looked absolutely perplexed.

After ordering his food, and ending up with a confusing wasabi sirloin, he pulled himself away to run to the restroom. He didn’t need to relieve himself - physically anyway. He needed a breather from Satine. She was wondrous, she was delightful. But she was overwhelming, to someone as introverted as Obi-wan.

He took a moment to take himself in, standing in the bathroom mirror. He needed a haircut. He needed a beard trim. He looked a little bit like a mess. Maybe Satine was right - he needed a hobby. And the bags under his eyes proved she was right about him needing to rest. He adjusted his jacket and ran a hand over his stomach. Maybe a trip to the gym, too. He was getting a bit fatherly, which wasn’t exactly a goal considering the fact he had no kids.

On the way back from the bathroom, Obi-wan was looking down and fiddling with his tie. He was walking along, distracted, when suddenly his shirt and jacket were shocked with ice cold water. Shoulders hit shoulders, Obi-wan cursed and another voice did as well. He looked up, his eyes wide, and saw a waiter bent over picking up a water glass he was carrying.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you!” The waiter turned around with a panicked look on his face. “Here, just let me-” He grabbed a towel at his waist with his free hand and tried to pat Obi-wan’s chest.

Obi-wan shook his head. “No, it’s fine-”

“No, no, please-”

“I promise.” He said firmly. He grabbed the waiter’s wrist, and then glanced up to look him in the face. “I’m fine.” When their eyes met, Obi-wan had to blink a few times to come back to reality. The waiter was...pretty. Very pretty. And it caught Obi-wan off-guard. Pretty people usually didn’t affect him anymore - models will desensitize you - but this was different. His eyes were crystal blue. His hair was tied back in a messy ponytail. His skin was a dusty tan, sprinkled with freckles. A large scar ran up his face.

“I’m...I’m sorry.” The waiter pulled his hand back, his eyelids fluttering. “I can ask your server to take something off your tab to apologize.”

“It’s water, love.” He adjusted his jacket as he sat upright. “It’s nothing.”

“Still.” The waiter hesitated.

“Don’t worry about a thing.” Obi-wan smoothed down his shirt. He wanted to walk past him, but both the waiter and him seemed frozen in that moment.

The waiter worried his lip between his teeth. “Do, um, do you need help going back to your table?”

“No, no. I’m not that old, I know how to get back there.”

That made the waiter smile a bit. Something about his smile relaxed everything. “I didn’t imply that.”

He started to chuckle. “In all seriousness, no. I don’t need any help. Thank you though.”

“I hope you enjoy the rest of your meal.”

When Obi-wan returned to the table, Satine cocked her brow at him and took a sip of her wine. “Obi. You’re blushing.” Her eyes traveled down. “And you’re soggy.”

He tried to play it off. “Just ran into a waiter. Water. No big deal.”

“Just ran into a waiter?” Satine smirked. “Alright.” After taking a bite of her french sushi, she pointed her chopsticks at Obi-wan. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“You know I can’t stop you.”

“What’s next for you?” She asked. “Outside of work.”

“Well, that’s unfair, Satine. You know what I have going on outside of work.”

She cocked her head. “Nothing?”

“Precisely.”

Satine rolled her eyes and continued to pick around at her food. “I can’t wait till the day when you get a new hobby. Have you ever thought about knitting again?”

“I don’t have time.” He shrugged.

“Make time.”

Obi-wan chuckled to himself. He took a small bite of his steak, paused for a moment and then shrugged. Satisfactory. He turned his attention back to Satine. “You can’t just make more time, love. You have to sacrifice things.”

“Then find something worth sacrificing for.”

He shifted in his seat. “So _not_ knitting.”

After finishing their meals, Obi-wan followed as Satine walked ahead. The pair headed out towards the exit of the restaurant. The food had been good - albeit very odd - and Obi-wan was in the middle of thanking one of the hostesses on his way out when he was interrupted. 

“Sir!” A voice called out. Obi-wan looked over his shoulder to see the waiter from before - with the scar and the eyes - chasing after him. When he caught up, he was panting a bit and leaned on the hostess podium. “Sorry for the rush. I just-” He cleared his throat. “Wanted to give you this. To apologize. For my mistake with the water.” 

Satine walked ahead to step outside while the waiter sat a gift card onto the podium.

And then the waiter put a napkin on top of the giftcard.

And on the napkin was a little note. A string of numbers.

Obi-wan stared at it for a bit too long before, in a buzz of sudden courage, he pulled a pen from his own pocket and scribbled his own number on the other corner of the napkin. He tore his number off. He held out his hand. The waiter stuck his out too and he grabbed it, shaking his hand militantly. As he pulled away, he left the napkin shred in the waiter’s palm. He gave the waiter a tight smile. “Thank you.”

The waiter looked down, his eyelids fluttering over his bright eyes. “Have a good rest of your evening, sir.” He said. A smile was teasing over his pink lips. “I hope you had an amazing meal.” Obi-wan started to turn away when he piped up again. “What’s your name?”

After a moment of thinking, Obi-wan looked over his shoulder. “Ben.” He smiled tightly. 

And then he left, at a quick pace, rushing to meet Satine on the curb. They hopped into a taxi, Satine guiding the way, and rushed to put on their seatbelts. Obi-wan passed the giftcard to her, who was truly delighted. 

The second he got situated, his phone buzzed.

**hey**

Obi-wan smirked to himself. He thought for a moment before responding.

**That was quite quick.**

Buzz.

**i guess u could say that i didnt want 2 miss my shot**

Satine glanced over at him and didn’t even try to hide her giggle. “Really, Obi-wan?”

“What?”

“You actually gave him your number back? I thought you had given him a fake.” She typed rapidly on her own device.

“You saw?”

“I was watching through the glass door.”

“He was cute.” He shrugged. “No harm, no foul.”

“He’s a little ingenue waiter.”

Obi-wan rolled his eyes. “What? It’s not like I’m going to get distracted or whatever you might be worrying about. It’s just texting.”

“How do you know he didn’t know who you are? This city is crawling with young aspirational ‘artists’. Just promise me you won’t make him model for you or something. At least not until the third date.” 

He gave her a _look._ “Who said there was going to be dates?”

“You did. By giving him your number.”

“...From a certain point of view.”

Obi-wan arrived back at his flat before the sun went down. Much to his unexpected confusion, he continued to text back and forth with the waiter. He learned a lot about him in a decently quick time - Anakin Skywalker, twenty-five. He had been working at Watto’s for about three years now. His mother lived in a smaller town about four hours away. Obi-wan almost felt guilty for how much backstocked information he accidentally gathered from this handsome blabbermouth. 

He managed to avoid every question the same way he did for all the magazines. He was smart. He had practice. But what he didn’t have practice in was texting, non-stop, for hours. He didn’t expect this to happen. And he didn’t expect to enjoy it so. He was...actually having fun.

Obi-wan ended up texting Anakin until he went to bed. And then somehow ended up texting him the entire next day as well. And the next day. All the while, Obi-wan continued to avoid personal remarks. He just called photoshoots ‘work’ and editing ‘work’ and avoided talking about what he did. But him and Anakin did talk about their coffee orders. And what movies they watched at night. Music they listened to. How annoying Anakin’s customers were.

**so ben. i feel like i know nothing about u**

**Then how about this: I like silent films.**

**so u’re boring**

**I am not ‘boring’. I just like art.**

**r u an artist?**

**Somewhat.**

Satine called and made fun of him on the second night. “So. No date?”

He shook his head. “No date.”

“Your choice?”

“Naturally.” He sighed. “Why does it matter?”

“You know his favorite candy but you won’t see him in person?”

“Do _not_ shame me for how I make new friends. It’s my game to play.”

She laughed. “Obi-wan, you lost the game. Just go on a damn date.”

“I need to go and clean.” Obi-wan rolled his eyes before hanging up.

The next day, luckily, Obi-wan had a shoot so intense he would have to silence his phone during it. Satine couldn’t bully him now - he was a professional. And he wasn’t going to get distracted by a man. Those days were behind him. 

The director, Mace Windu, showed up with the models long after Obi-wan arrived at the studio. Obi-wan was relieved to see him. Mace Windu was a picky director - him and Obi-wan didn’t always mix. But he liked that. He liked how they could push each other, poking and prodding until they made the perfect art.

Mace and him shook hands. He looked extremely pleased with himself, even under all that stoic glaring. Obi-wan liked his energy - it was peaceful, yet firm. There was something so amazing about a man who knew what he wanted, would fight to get it, but wouldn’t even break a sweat.

“Nice to see you again, Kenobi.” He smiled in his small way. All his expressions were small. To most, they would be outweighed by the scowling. But it was perfect to Obi-wan.

And there, from behind Mace, came the model.

Obi-wan’s face broke into a grin when he saw her. Dark hair, fair skin, a perfectly symmetrical face. She was looking serious, mentally running over poses in her head. Obi-wan knew that face of concentration. The second their eyes locked, her face bust into a wild grin. “Obi-wan!”

“Padme.”

Padme brushed past the director, rushing forward to jump into Obi-wan’s arms and kiss his cheek. “I was so happy when I found out it was you!” She squealed. She pulled away and looked up at him with her big, beautiful eyes and princess-like smile. “I’m so excited to see what you have planned.”

Obi-wan smiled down at her. Just as she made no shy work of telling people Obi-wan was her favorite photographer, he made it just as clear to anyone who had the time that Padme was his favorite model. Not only was her face near-flawless - nicknamed ‘an angel face’ just to prove the point - but she was expressive. She was powerful. Commanding. She was a real artist. Her photos could breathe. “You will _adore_ what I have for you.” He said.

She looked like she was about to say something, but her face fell and her eyes shut into a visible cringe as a crash and a ‘Oh, sorry!’ sounded from the hall into the room. “Dammit.” She muttered under her breath.

“Oh?” Obi-wan raised an eyebrow at her.

Mace cleared his throat, smoothed his shirt, and then disappeared into the hall. He reappeared, just only a bit annoyed, holding the shoulder of the waiter from the french restaurant. 

That wasn’t exactly what Obi-wan was expecting.

The waiter - Anakin - blinked in sudden recognition. He was smart enough to not say anything, but Obi-wan knew he wasn’t going to fly under the radar with this for long. To make matters worse, Anakin was smirking. That didn’t sit right with him.

“This is my roommate. Anakin Skywalker.” Padme said apologetically.

“Who _didn’t_ see the table out there. My bad.” Anakin gave her a sheepish look. Then he looked back at Obi-wan.

“Anakin is stepping in for a model that dropped last minute.” Mace said.

“This is my first rodeo. Aside from Padme’s mirror selfies.” His wit was quick. It was easy for him to make people smile. That was dangerous. 

“You do have a good face for this, to be fair.” Obi-wan said lowly. He looked at Padme. “And you think he can do something this big on the fly?”

“I’ve done a shoot before.” He said.

Padme turned to look at him. “A basic one. For headshots.”

Anakin nodded. “I’m a wannabe actor. So, you know. I’m comfortable in front of a camera.”

She nodded. “He’s surprising.”

_Oh, I bet._

Anakin smiled at her. “She’s right. I can surprise you.” He looked at Obi-wan again. “And you are?” He asked it with a teasing lilt in his voice.

Mace interrupted him before he could speak. “This is Obi-wan Kenobi. The best photographer in the city. So you really _want_ to surprise him today.”

“Obi-wan?” Anakin said in confusion.

“My family isn't from around here.” Obi-wan said quickly. “Odd name, I know. Nice to meet you, Anakin.” He smiled in the most innocent way he could but he felt deep inside that Anakin had seen right through it. 

His thoughts were confirmed a moment later after the director shooed Padme and Anakin into the dressing rooms in the back. It didn’t take long for Obi-wan’s phone to buzz in his back pocket. He felt the weight of his imminent doom in his hand as he scrolled over his screen to see the message. 

**obi-wan???**

He sighed.

**Yes. It’s my legal name.**

Another buzz.

**does anyone know u as ben??**

This was not going to be easy.

**Only a few.**

Buzz.

**so im special ;)**

He exhaled. “God dammit.”

“What?” Mace turned around from the set. “Something wrong, Kenobi?”

He shook his head and put away his phone. “No, no. Nothing. Just personal life.”

“What? Is Kenobi back in the dating scene?” Mace smirked.

“No, no.” He shook his head. 

He chuckled to himself. “Of course not. Now, let me walk you through this. We’re changing into four outfits and four scenes. Is that okay? I know you hate using the studio for fashion but the company requested it.”

“Why?”

“Something about the dynamic they want to show. That’s why I had to scramble to find a male model with these exact measurements.” He took a deep breath. “Is your schedule open for tomorrow?”

“As of right now.” Obi-wan said.

“Good.” He nodded. “In case Skywalker doesn’t pull through. I’ll have twenty-four hours to find another.”

The makeup artist brought out the two models for Mace’s approval. After Mace was satisfied, he pushed them over to Obi-wan. At the end of the day, the photographer could see what no one else could. And Obi-wan saw two ethereal beauties. They looked like two beings from outer space, too good for this earth. 

“What about the scar?” Obi-wan motioned at Anakin’s cheek. 

The makeup artist shook her head. “It’s too deep.”

Obi-wan examined it slowly. “If you can’t cover it up, emphasize it.”

Mace cocked his head. “Are you sure? The company didn’t ask for-”

“Trust me.” Obi-wan turned to him. “It’s better than photoshopping it out. It gives him an edge. The scar, the hair, the brows…” He looked back over at Anakin, feeling his stomach flip. “It makes him look tough. Not enough male models can be pretty _and_ tough.”

“So I’m pretty?” Anakin grinned. 

Obi-wan just responded with an eyeroll. 

Padme and Anakin left the dressing rooms at the same time, and fawned over each other for a moment before heading over. They did look quite stunning. The brand was ‘editorial ballroom business casual’. To be honest, Obi-wan didn’t even know what that meant. But it obviously was a great combination.

It was hard for him to keep his eyes off of Anakin. But he put all his energy into his camera, all his attention to Mace. Subtly and control were his strong suits. For some reason, that seemed to slip around Anakin. He didn’t like that. Or he did. As Anakin and Padme got comfortable on the simplistic set, with all of its white platforms and levels, Obi-wan found himself smiling as Anakin did. But he packed that all away as quickly as possible.

“Padme doesn’t shoot like a ‘normal’ model.” Obi-wan started to get comfortable with his camera in his hands as he approached the set. “Anakin, you need to be okay with that.”

“Define ‘not a normal model’?” He turned around to look at her. “What, am I in danger? Should I be worried?”

“She moves a lot.” Obi-wan answered for her. “She’s dynamic. She does best with minor direction. She thinks on her feet.” Obi-wan pointed at the corner, where Mace stood. “Music, love.” 

“That’s it? That’s all I get?” Anakin said, incredulous.

“Trust me. You’ll get used to her.” He couldn’t hide his amused smirk.

Mace stepped forward. “Remember, this is for a spread about the _clothes._ This is about the clothing company. Skywalker, that means use the clothes.” He turned around and headed to the stereo. 

Padme leaned forward to look at Anakin straight on. “You know those times where we would do those improv classes? Or that time we were extras in that weird horror movie? I need that kind of energy.” She turned to Obi-wan and just gave him a look that they both understood: _don’t stop taking pictures._

As the music started from the stereo, Padme rolled her shoulders back, adjusted her dress, and grabbed Anakin’s shoulders without a moment of hesitation. In a similarly inhibited fashion, Anakin threw back his blazer and reached up to brush through his hair. Within moments, mere blinks, Padme and Anakin went from two roommates to two pseudo-lovers, who couldn’t keep their hands off each other or their clothes on.

It was like a switch flipped. Obi-wan was convinced that Padme had secretly been training Anakin. If Obi-wan liked social media, maybe he would have seen Anakin’s face all over Padme’s pages. Maybe Anakin was just _really_ good at acting. Obi-wan could usually easily separate the looks people give into his lens, but Anakin’s eyes seemed to pierce through the glass, through the shutter, and into his very soul.

Oh, these pictures would be wonderful. 

It was a silent agreement between Padme and Anakin that Padme would look at him, and he would look everywhere but her. He was a moody, brooding lover. He was dismissive. He was pointed. He wasn’t into her. He was into the camera. He was into the viewer. He was into _you._ He was below Padme, the goddess that she was, and we all knew it. She was the star. She was the angel. But he _looked_ like he could _think_ he was above her. And it was intriguing.

Once the first outfits were done, the two went to change with the dressingmen and Mace didn’t waste any time walking up to Obi-wan. “That Skywalker kid certainly _is_ surprising.”

“I like him.” Obi-wan leaned over his laptop and scrolled through the photos. “Padme is lovely today, of course. But he’s bringing out something fun in her, too. She doesn’t usually get so hands-on with the male models.”

“She’s comfortable with him.”

“They work well together.”

“It makes me feel bad that he’s only getting paid half today.” Mace chuckled. He leaned down and looked at the photos over Obi-wan’s shoulder. “But if he looks like that in the printed photos, an agency or two will be down his throat in less than an hour.”

It was true. The photos were shocking. They left Obi-wan silent. In his entire history, Padme was the only person that didn’t take too much time to find her _it._ Obi-wan found hers within a few shots. But Anakin? The first shot _was_ his _it._

How lovely. How terrifying.

The second outfits were worse. Worse in a good way. Anakin was shirtless. Padme was in a full suit. Anakin was kneeling the whole time. Padme was kicking him like a dog. And it created images that could have been screenshots from a spy movie. They looked like they were fighting. But still, they did it in such a way to where the focus was still where it needed to be: the clothes. Padme showed off the shoes by stepping on his chest. He showed off the pants by remaining on the floor.

Obi-wan had never done such an easy shoot in his life. It was almost a little embarrassing. He was worried that possibly he was slacking. Was there something he was missing? Was he sloppy? But no. It was just that simple with them.

It actually pissed Obi-wan off. Next time, he would have to up the ante. 

The third outfit, the mood changed completely. Padme and Anakin were chasing each other around the set like two childhood friends. Her light dress was flowing behind her as he picked her up and twirled her around, laughing and holding her tiny body effortlessly. The mood shift was like whiplash. But Obi-wan’s camera ate it up. 

At the end of the shoot, Mace and Padme were the first to leave the set. Padme kissed Obi-wan’s cheek as she left. Her and Mace needed to talk about a gig for a music video, so they were going to disappear into the city and delight in each other for the evening. 

“Anakin is still in the dressing room.” Mace had said. “Don’t let the studio lock up with him still inside.”

This left Obi-wan alone to scroll through the photos on his laptop, passing the time by falling deep into the energy that radiated out of the images. The light of the screen shined off his face, acting as a portal in the magical world that Anakin Skywalker existed in. He was drowning, drowning in the blue of Anakin’s eyes. Drowning in the joy in his smile, the rage in his glare, the pain in his pout. His stomach was flipping every time he clipped to see a new image.

The sound of boots against the floor dozens of minutes later introduced Anakin back into the room. Obi-wan looked at him, and he grinned at Obi-wan, and there was a moment of silence as they both slowly came to terms with the fact that they were alone and they probably needed to talk.

“So. Be honest.” Anakin said as he walked over slowly. He threw his leather jacket over his shoulder and flashed his crooked smile. “How did I do, _Obi-wan?”_ His tone when he said his name was teasing.

Obi-wan’s eyes followed Anakin as he got closer. He was just now realizing, the closer Anakin got, how Anakin was a few inches taller than him. “You did quite amazingly.” He said. He kept his voice as level as he could. “You have a lot of natural charm.”

“Do I?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Padme was right. You’re surprising. I like it.”

He brushed his hair away from his face. He still had his makeup on. “I’m glad you like it. _Obi-wan.”_

He turned to start putting away his camera. He was fluctuating between wanting to sigh and wanting to huff out of annoyance. “Why are you saying my name like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like _that.”_

He started to laugh. “Because I spent a whole weekend telling Padme that I was flirting up a storm with a mystery man named Ben.” 

Obi-wan cocked his eyebrows as he disassembled his camera. “Flirting up a storm?”

“Oh, what?” Anakin walked closer until he was standing next to Obi-wan. “Now that I know who you are, is that going to change?”

Obi-wan wanted to say yes. Maybe. It just might. But he couldn’t bring himself to speak. He just continued to put away his camera in silence. When it was all sorted, he finally turned to look at Anakin. He was propped up on his elbows on the table, looking at him with his big blue eyes. “Well?” Anakin asked.

Well, indeed. “Have you eaten today?” Obi-wan zipped up his bag and put it over his shoulder.

“Not since breakfast.” Anakin said. “Why?”

“I’m going to get dinner. Feel free to follow me if you want.” He started heading to the door.

“If you don’t stop me, I will.”

“I’m not stopping you.”

“Then lead the way.”

Obi-wan did. He led them through the sunset streets, heading to the midtown area and away from the plastic downtown. Anakin did not go silent the entire time. Always commenting around something, anything around them. His observations were always odd, too - like he viewed the world in a completely different way.

Obi-wan wanted to know about this different way. And as soon as they sat down, ordered, and got their food - he wasted no time getting to the bottom of things.

“You live with Padme?” He asked, taking a bite of his food.

“I have for a while.”

“Then why haven’t I heard of you?” Obi-wan said.

Anakin shrugged. “Do you expect a semi-famous model to talk about her waiter roommate?”

“And you didn’t say anything to me about her.”

“I’m not trying to walk in someone’s shadow while flirting with some guy, yeah?”

“That’s fair.” Obi-wan couldn’t argue. “How do you all know each other, then?”

“College. Ish.”

“College-ish.” He grinned. “So how do you afford rent here in Coruscant on a waiter’s salary?”

“No, no, I don’t pay the rent.” Anakin chuckled. “Padme pays the whole rent. And I pay her back by cooking and cleaning everything.” 

“Really?” Obi-wan cocked his eyebrow and raised his glass to his lips. “And why is that?”

“I send all my money to my mom.” He said. He took another bite of his food. “Damn, this is really good.” He spoke with his mouth full. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Your mother?” He set down his glass.

He nodded. “Oh, yeah.” He swallowed. “She lives about four hours out, right? I’m trying to make enough money so she doesn’t have to work anymore. She did the whole single mom thing, you know? I want to try to help her.”

“Is that why you like being an actor?” 

Anakin shook his head. “No, no. But the money helps, right?” 

He looked Anakin over. “So then, why an actor?”

“Why does this feel like a job interview?” Anakin chuckled.

Obi-wan sat back in his seat. “You’re right. I shouldn’t be grilling you.”

“I like the conversation, don’t get me wrong.” Anakin said. “But like...just tell me how your day was. Beside the shoot.”

“You know all about that.” He smirked. “We were texting.”

“Well. What about the things I don’t know?” He said. “Since you never told me about your secret life.”

“I’m a cat person.” 

That made him laugh. “Well, fine. That’s one fact. You’re a cat person.”

For a moment, they stared at each other. Anakin kept poking at his food while just flitting his eyes all over Obi-wan’s face. Obi-wan felt like he was starting into an audience, a viewer. A camera. He didn’t like how on-the-spot he felt.

“What do you do for fun?” Anakin finally said.

Obi-wan just responded with a simple smile. “I work.”

Anakin started to laugh.

“What?”

“I know another fact about you now.” Anakin said.

“And what’s that?”

“You smile in this way. This weird little way. When you don’t want to talk about what you’re really thinking? It’s like...a teacher face. Being extra careful.”

His eyebrows shot up. “I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“About what?”

Obi-wan sat back in his seat. “You... _noticing_ me.”

“Of course I’m noticing you.”

Anakin wasted no time when they finally got out of the restaurant.

“Can we call this a date?” He asked.

Obi-wan scoffed. “A date?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“No.” He shook his head. A smile was creeping over his face. “No, this wasn’t a date. You’ll know when it’s a date.”

Anakin’s cheeks turned pink. “I’ll know?”

“You’ll know.”

“How do I pass the test to get to this elusive ‘date’?”

Obi-wan shrugged. He started to walk down the street and Anakin followed. “I’m not going to give you a list of rules to follow.”

Anakin chuckled. “I wouldn’t follow them anyway. I trust my gut. Rules are for boring people.”

“Really? Am I boring?”

“Depends on if you follow the rules.”

“I follow enough rules.”

“Then you might be boring.” Anakin shrugged. “I mean, who knows.”

When they made it to a line of grey stone townhomes, barely lit by the yellow flickering streetlamps, Anakin stopped walking. He stopped at the bottom of a short staircase, leading to a townhome with a tiny bisexual pride flag sitting in a potted plant. Christmas lights whined through the windows - odd for the summer - and a dog could be heard yapping through the door. “Well, Obi-wan. You’re officially the first man since college to walk me home from a date.”

“Not a date.”

“Okay. You’re the first ever man to walk me home from a not-date.” He beamed. 

“I’m flattered.”

Anakin leaned against the railing of the staircase. He crossed his legs. “Padme’s waiting for me. Do I say Ben or do I say Obi-wan when I tell her about all the juicy details?”

“Your choice.”

“I’ll say Obi-wan, then. So she can know.”

Obi-wan walked a step closer. “Why do you want her to know?”

“I want her to be proud of me. Because she will be.”

“And why is that?”

Anakin smiled at him. “I haven’t been this interested in someone in a few years. I think she’ll be proud to know I finally have a heart again. Even if, well, you know. We aren’t dating at all.”

“Oh, really?” Obi-wan said.

He nodded. “Really.”

Obi-wan was expecting it when Anakin leaned in and pressed their lips together. He responded in kind without any hesitation. Anakin’s lips were full, but thinner than his, and Obi-wan was able to dominate the kiss easily. His hand moved to Anakin’s waist. He dug the tip of his thumb into his hipbone. He pressed into the kiss full-force.

Obi-wan pulled away after a bit too long, leaving Anakin leaning forward with his eyes still closed, chasing it. His eyes fluttered open and his face turned pink. He stood back straight. “So...did I get the date?”

Obi-wan let go of his waist while laughing. “Good night, Anakin.” He started to walk away.

“I’ll take that as a maybe!” Anakin cried out behind him.

“Good night.” He waved his hand over his shoulder.

“Good night, _Obi-wan!”_

About two weeks later, the photos dropped.

Anakin and Obi-wan had seen each other only once more before that, while getting coffee in the park before Anakin’s shift. Anakin kissed his cheek before leaving but, no. It wasn’t a date. Obi-wan didn’t date. 

When the pictures dropped, Obi-wan received many calls. Many, many calls. So many that he was barely able to respond to Anakin’s lone text to him.

**im a hashtag now :)**

When the photos were printed, Padme got her usual attention and praise. The brand got its recognition, of course. And even Obi-wan got his thanks. But this time, a new name was muttered along with their’s. _Anakin Skywalker._ The mysterious model who was in a few short films and background acting jobs in crime shows, who was suddenly in a five-page editorial spread that had close-ups on his scar and his muscles and his bright, beaming smile.

“How many people have been calling you today?” Satine’s voice fluttered through the phone. The sound of her bath was in the background, and the clinking of her wine glass echoed into the speaker. She had called late, late, late that night. 

Obi-wan leaned back onto the counter behind him. “What?”

“How many people have blown up your phone after you printed today?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not you too.”

“So I was right!” He could hear her smile. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to rest today. They looked wonderful, Obi, you should be proud.”

“Thank you.” He accepted that graciously. But he wasn’t so easily placated. “You don’t call just to say things like that, though.”

“Padme was wonderful, obviously, but _him!_ ” Satine scoffed. _“The waiter!_ Who would have thought? You know, I called Mace myself to ask where you found him - just to make sure you didn’t pull him on yourself - but once I found out _Padme_ recommended him? I must say - I am losing my mind over him.”

“Oh?” Obi-wan took a sip of his scotch, and then topped it off once more before heading towards his bedroom.

“Oh, indeed. Anakin Skywalker is the next big thing. I can tell. Twitter was drooling over him. _Drooling,_ Obi! You should be so proud of yourself.”

“Why are you really calling, love?”

“I’m signing your boytoy.” Satine said.

Obi-wan inhaled sharply. “Ah.”

“This is good news, Obi. It means you can see him more.”

_It means you can drown more._

“So where exactly are you planning on going with him?” Obi-wan asked. He walked across his bedroom and set his scotch on the bedside table. “Since, you know. Apparently Twitter is obsessed.”

“Oh, that’s easy. Editorial. High fashion. We’re testing him for runway this weekend. He was a hit. I’m already getting offers and he hasn’t even finished signing the papers.” He could hear her turning off her bathwater from over the receiver. “It’s like he’s some kind of chosen one.”

“I’m glad he has a nice career ahead of him.” He said simply. 

But Satine wasn’t stupid. “You should make sure that you keep your schedule open. I only trust you to work with him.”

“And why is that?”

“Obi-wan.” She sighed. “I’ve seen the pictures. I saw the spread. You shot him the way he _needs_ to be shot. You made him real. You made his beauty _real._ And you know why? Because you can see him. You found his _it._ And I’m not going to take that from you.” 

Obi-wan didn’t respond.

“I know you. I know your work. You didn’t even shoot me like that when we were dating.”

He shook his head. “I wasn’t as practiced then. That was a whole decade ago.”

“Don’t make excuses.”

“I’m not making any excuses!”

“Have you kissed him yet?”

A moment. A too long second of silence.

“You did. Didn’t you?” He could hear her bathwater sloshing around as she sat up straight. She gasped. “I knew it!”

“He kissed me.” He clarified.

“That’s it. I’m booking you. I’m sending you an email tonight.” 

She hung up. There was nothing but the buzz of the phone static.

Obi-wan finished his drink in one swallow.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

_ “A photograph is a secret about a secret. The more it tells you the less you know.” _

— Diane Arbus

“So. An interview?”

“Yep!” Anakin’s voice danced through the speakers on Obi-wan’s phone as he sat at his kitchen table. It was morning - though it was a late wake up for Obi-wan - and his eyes were still adjusting to the sunlight. “An interview! On Coruscant Tonight, in like a week.”

“When exactly?” Obi-wan took a sip of his tea.

“Friday.”

Tea wouldn’t be enough to have this conversation. He would need coffee. He hadn’t slept at all the previous night, or the night before or the night even earlier. His thoughts were plagued by the utterly confusing aura of feelings that was radiating from this young man. He was being chased around in circles in his mind, evading himself and Skywalker and everyone talking at him. Avoiding was tiring. “Well, that’s plenty of time to train you for television. I’m sure Satine won’t let you slip.”

“She’s just as tough as you said she is.”

Obi-wan chuckled. “Yes, she is a bit of a handful. But she’s great at what she does. She’ll know how to set you up.”

“I don’t know anything about stuff like this, though.” Anakin sighed. “I’m going to have to totally wing it. Which, I mean, I can do. It’s just a conversation, right?”

“Technically.” 

“I’ve got this.” Obi-wan could practically see the cocky smile on his face.

It made Obi-wan smile in turn. “How do you feel about our shoot tomorrow?”

Anakin let out a groan. “Look. I don’t like admitting it, but this is...definitely something I’m a little nervous about. Okay?”

Two weeks had passed his ‘big break’. He had done a handful of shoots since then. They were all small ones, tiny dips in the pond. But there were more on the way. Lots more. Anakin had started running the rounds with Satine, and Obi-wan had pages of texts detailing everything. Anakin kept him in his pocket. 

“I’m shocked you’re still nervous. You seem so sure of yourself.”

“It’s different when Padme is around!”

Obi-wan stirred his tea and looked out his window. “If you want, you can come over and I can give you a few pointers. I feel like I owe it to you.”

“I can’t. Tragically, I have a shift tonight.” He said.

“A shift?”

“Yeah!”

“You haven’t quit the restaurant?” Obi-wan shook his head, incredulous. “Why not?”

“Well, I don’t want to jump the gun.”

“I thought you were all about jumping the gun.”

“Not when it comes to money for my mom.” His voice got a bit more serious than Obi-wan was used to. It made Obi-wan instinctively straighten up. 

“I admire that.” He said finally.

Anakin’s chuckle echoed in the phone. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Just go easy on me tomorrow, okay?”

“Whatever you say.”

Anakin arrived with a duffle bag in tow to Obi-wan’s studio the next day. He was all rosy cheeks and wide grins, waving as soon as he walked through the threshold. Satine was there with him, but she was a lot less smiley and joyful than he was. She looked rushed beyond comparison. And she looked  _ pissed. _

“Obi-wan.” She said, typing wildly at her phone. “One of my other clients is having a crisis right now. An absolute meltdown.”

“Her stylist ruined her hair.” Anakin whispered.

“She’s not meant to be a blonde!” Satine cried.

“And what does that mean for us today?” He raised an eyebrow.

“It means I can’t stay.” Satine waved Anakin away. “He already brought what he needed and his makeup is done.” She said to Obi-wan. “I just need these shots for the website and then we’re perfect, okay?”

“So it’s just for a website?” He nodded. “That’s easy enough, I shouldn’t need you around for that.”

She leaned in close as Anakin started to wander away to look at the set. “Obi. Do your magic. I trust you completely. You know me.”

Obi-wan nodded, patting her shoulder in reassurance. “Everything will be fine. You know  _ me.” _

“Also.” Satine jabbed a finger into his chest. “I just needed to tell you that I don’t think I’ve been able to have a single conversation with that man without him finding a way to bring you up. That’s embarrassing.”

Obi-wan felt his ears heating up. 

“Avoiding mentioning him is basically mentioning him, by the way. So it’s embarrassing for you too.”

“I’ll get your photos, love.”

“Damn right.” She planted a kiss on both of Obi-wan’s cheeks before waving a frantic goodbye, passing him a folder full of directions and heading out the door. “Anakin!” She called over her shoulder. “Go get dressed!”

It seemed Anakin was ahead of her, though, as he was heading straight to the restroom.

Obi-wan skimmed over Satine’s packet and started to assemble his camera. The set was already dressed, so he wasn’t unfamiliar with the angle they were going for: an angel. The backdrop was just barely blue - more of an off-white if you asked Obi-wan - and the floor of the studio was covered in soft white blankets and cushions and sheets. So many sheets. All of them sheer, all of them soft. 

“I feel like Miss Satine forgot the top of my outfit.”

Obi-wan turned around and looked up from his camera screen. There he stood, Anakin Skywalker, wearing just tight white shorts that looked more like boxers than real items of clothing. Obi-wan’s eyes moved up, noting the contour that someone had painted onto Anakin’s stomach and neck. His collarbones were as sharp as weapons, his cheekbones the same. And his eyes were lined with black, just enough - enough to look even bluer than before.

Yep. An angel.

Obi-wan pulled himself together in seconds.

“Don’t just stand around like that.” Obi-wan waved him over towards the set. “You’re going to end up freezing yourself out.” 

Anakin walked towards the set. There was something about being completely alone with him in his studio that felt...different. A bit too intimate. Obi-wan’s studio was his soul, to put it lightly. And Anakin was alone here. Alone with him, wearing  _ that.  _ And Anakin was still looking at Obi-wan with those eyes. Anakin looked at Obi-wan like he was some kind of magical being. He would often text Obi-wan about fate, dreams, universal energy. And he believed that they were meant to meet.

And Anakin looked at him like they were meant to meet. He looked at him like this was a universal must. 

And now Obi-wan was trapped with that look. And his guard was faltering.

“Direct me.” Anakin said. “I’m nervous without Padme here.” He lowered himself down into the pile of sheets, pulling them around him and getting comfortable in the cushioned set. He looked a bit like a cat - curling up inside all the fabrics and peering up at Obi-wan with his sharp eyes. Small. Wild. Knowledgeable.

“You don’t do well with direction. You do well with your gut.” 

“My gut needs a little pointing in the right direction.” He lay back and stretched out. “Like this? Am I supposed to be floating?”

Obi-wan let out a breathy laugh. “No. Not floating.”

“Then what?”

“You need to look more…” He trailed off into thought.

“Sexy?”

“Regal.” Obi-wan said. “Regal yet natural. This setting is so...angelic. Embrace it.”

“Like this?” Anakin raised himself up on one arm. His muscular back arched, his head turned to show off his blade-sharp jawline, and he lowered his eyes. He looked like a passive-aggressively gorgeous marble statue, straight from Greece. Like David himself.

Obi-wan felt like the wind was knocked out of him. “Yeah, like that.” He kneeled down with his camera and framed Anakin from the waist up. “But relax. Be natural.”

“What’s natural about lying surrounded in all this crap?” Anakin swished his feet around in all the white fabric.

“Act how you would in sheets.” Obi-wan said. “What do you do between the sheets?”

The innuendo surprisingly seemed lost on Anakin. “I sleep.”

Obi-wan couldn’t bite back his laughing. “Alright then. Okay. Then be sleepy.”

Anakin being sleepy was shockingly more of an erotic experience than Obi-wan was expecting. He rolled around in the sheets. He splayed out, barely covered by the sheerness around his waist. His eyelids were heavy, his lips pouty. You had interrupted his bedtime routine, and he was both wanton for you  _ and _ rejecting your attention. One photo, with his arms up and head resting down, was welcoming. _ It _ begged you closer. Another, with his legs crossed and back turned, cried at you to leave him alone. _ It  _ was such an interesting dynamic - Obi-wan for a moment forgot the point of the shoot. He was busy taking the photos  _ he  _ wanted to take of Anakin.

Anakin was under his skin. There was no use in denying it anymore. 

Anakin lived inside of him.

The session went on a lot longer than it should have. And there were  _ many  _ more photos than needed. His  _ it  _ was hard to shake. One of Obi-wan’s favorites was an image of Anakin, laying down. Obi-wan was standing over him to get the perfect straight-down framing. Anakin was biting one of his nails and looking up at the camera with a cocked head. It looked like he had a question to ask you. A very important one. And he was nervous.

It was an intimate photo. Obi-wan didn’t know if he could even morally submit it. It wasn’t lewd. But it was private in an indescribable way.

“I want to try something.” Obi-wan’s voice was strained as he walked away from the laptop. His footsteps echoed throughout the studio. He approached Anakin again, who was just laying in the sheets on his stomach, tapping away at his phone. 

“Oh?” Anakin looked up. “Did the photos not look good?”

“They came out perfectly.” He said. His tone was anything but reassuring, though. His tone was strained.

“Are you sure?” He cocked his head.

“Lay down, Anakin.” Obi-wan said. He pointed at the sheets. “Trust me.” 

Anakin did as he was told.

“Do you remember when I was standing over you?” Obi-wan said. He situated his camera in his hands again. “We’re going to be doing that again.”

“What should I do differently?”

“These aren’t for the website. I want these to be for your personal portfolio, if you’re willing.” 

He nodded eagerly. “Oh, yeah! That would be cool!” He smiled. “Are you, uh, going to help me out?”

“That’s what mentors are for.” Obi-wan bit the inside of his cheek as he walked back over. “Lay down. On your back.”

Anakin did so, and Obi-wan climbed over him to have his feet on either side of his hips. Anakin got situated between them, playfully acting like he was going to knock Obi-wan off his balance. But he didn’t falter. He wasn’t phased by Anakin’s jokes. He was too focused on the glimmer of the studio lights on Anakin’s bottom lip. How he wanted to taste it again.

Anakin tasted like sunshine. He had memorized that fact from their first kiss. He tasted like sunshine, bright lights, lemonade, all things good and warm and summery. He was a hot afternoon with a cloudless day.

Did the freckles on his chest go all the way down? He had to fight himself to not look and see.

“Being alone with you is dangerous, I’ve realized.” Obi-wan said.

“Oh?” Anakin’s eyebrows shot up. That look of flustered shock. Perfect. There  _ it  _ was.  _ Click. _

“Yes.”  _ Click.  _ “I think Satine should have stayed and chaperoned us.”

“Why is that?” He laughed a bit when he asked it, pushing his hair away from his face.

Obi-wan leaned down a bit closer. “Because I think people only have so much self control.” 

Anakin turned bright pink.  _ Click.  _ “Really? I thought you didn’t date.”

“I didn’t mention me.”

Now Anakin looked confused. And a little annoyed.  _ Click. Click.  _ “So what did you mean then?”

“Turn over.”

“What?”

“Flip onto your stomach. I want images of you looking over your shoulder.”

Anakin did so. 

“Look at me.”

He did. He looked over his shoulder, up at him. He looked up at him, propped himself up on his elbows and bit his lip up at Obi-wan. He leaned down a bit lower, the lens barely a few inches from Anakin’s face. 

“Exactly like that.”  _ Click.  _

This was a different type of  _ it.  _ A different type of look. A different face. Obi-wan felt this  _ it  _ deep down inside of him. This wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling - and it wasn’t unwelcome in a greater sense. It made Obi-wan feel adrenaline in his soul. He used the camera to look at Anakin’s eyes, to feel Anakin’s heat. His heartbeat was in his ears.

He leaned down further and further. Anakin dropped from his elbows to lay on the floor flat. His head was turned, but now he was an angel without wings. An angel that couldn’t fly. Obi-wan quickly came to terms with the glare Anakin was giving him. There was some Lucifer in that man.

Obi-wan lowered his camera and leaned in closer to Anakin. “Are you alright?” He whispered. “You look upset.”

“I don’t like being played with.”

“Who’s playing with you?” Closer. Closer.

“Screw you.” Anakin muttered.

Obi-wan pressed his forehead against Anakin’s back. He exhaled, his breath tingling along Anakin’s spine. His back arched in response, much to Obi-wan’s satisfaction. And then He stood up and walked away, leaving Anakin in the set. He walked over to a table towards the back of the room, setting his camera down and grabbing his laptop. “That should be all we need.”

Anakin stayed on the ground, utterly bewildered. “What?”

“That’s it. That’s all we need. You can change.” Obi-wan waved his hand at Anakin.

Obi-wan heard Anakin scramble to stand. Anakin’s bare feet sounded on the wood floor as he marched over to where Obi-wan was putting away his camera and taking out the SD card. “What if I don’t want to change yet?”

“We’re done.” Obi-wan looked up as Anakin moved in front of his chair. “You can cover up now.”

“After that?” Anakin leaned down and looked at Obi-wan as he put the last of his equipment away. “Obi-wan, please.”

“Please what?”

“If you want me to change, then tell me to change.” He leaned in and stopped close enough for Obi-wan’s skin to tingle every single time he exhaled.

It was a dare. It was a test. It was Anakin dangling a million dollars under Obi-wan’s nose. It was Anakin holding out his plate and demanding a second serving. It was a kitten, demanding milk. A snake, hiding in the grass. It was Anakin. Moving his mouth closer and closer. He was trapped, begging to be let out, begging for Obi-wan to open a window and let him run.

Obi-wan didn’t open the window. Obi-wan shattered the glass.

Then they were kissing, touching, moaning. Anakin crawled into Obi-wan’s lap and straddled him. He dug his nails into Obi-wan’s cheeks, his back curving as Obi-wan’s hands fell to his low back. They fit together a little too perfectly. 

Anakin was about as silent during this as he was during everything else in his life - which is to say, quite frankly, he was loud. He didn’t stop making noise as their tongues clashed and their noses bumped.

Then they finally broke apart.

Obi-wan and Anakin stayed like that, foreheads pressed together, panting and smelling each other’s sweat and desire. They paused for a while, letting their brains catch up with their flustered bodies.

“What’s wrong?” Anakin finally said, breathless. 

Obi-wan nuzzled his forehead. “You’ve really just fallen into my life.”

“And your lap.”

“The lap was more purposeful. The life was a bit of a happy accident.”

“At least it was happy.” He leaned in again and captured Obi-wan’s lips in his own. He moved against his mouth, pushed against his hips. Obi-wan dug his thumbs into Anakin’s lovehandles and squeezed. The two men stayed like that in the chair for longer than they should have, mouths clashing. Anakin was more sloppy. He was impulsive. Obi-wan was methodical, making sure his tongue tasted every inch. Anakin fought for the destination. Obi-wan enjoyed the journey.

Obi-wan felt Anakin’s erection twitching against his own. He pulled away from the kiss and started to kiss across and down Anakin’s angled jaw. His hand moved down to gently pet Anakin over the sheer white fabric, making him whine. Obi-wan settled in the crux of his jaw and his neck and started to lightly suck - not enough to mark, but enough to taste. The recognizable taste of foundation powder was on his tongue, but so was a bright, lemony taste that was pure  _ Anakin.  _

He wrapped his arms around Anakin’s waist and stood, picking him up and placing him on the edge of the table in front of him. His mouth did not stop against Anakin’s neck the entire time, kissing desperately. Anakin turned his head and licked a long stripe from shoulder to Obi-wan’s ear, sending him over the edge.

He placed his hand firmly on Anakin’s heart and pushed him down until he was laying back on the table. He rested on top of binders, papers, folders, pencils, everything. But Obi-wan didn’t care. And Anakin didn’t object to the discomfort. Both were too wrapped up in the excitement of it all.

A barrier had been broken. A wall had been smashed. Obi-wan had kept Anakin at arm's length. There was a purposeful distance between them. But Anakin had pushed against it. Fought it. And even though this was happening, he hadn’t won yet - because he knew this was only happening because Obi-wan allowed it. Obi-wan had caved.

Obi-wan fell to his knees between Anakin’s legs. He slipped his thumbs under the band of Anakin’s white boxers and tight underwear and pushed them down, exposing inches and inches of delicious tan flesh. He rubbed his hands up and down Anakin’s legs as he took in the sight of Anakin’s cock. He was hard, his weeping cock bouncing against his stomach. He lay flat still on the table. He was panting, his hips twitching. 

And yes, Obi-wan nodded to himself. The freckles went all the way down.

He lifted up Anakin’s legs until he could see his ass. It was plump, grabbable. He looked sweet. He looked like a doll. He propped Anakin’s legs over his shoulders, nuzzling into his thighs and starting to plant kisses along the line of his muscles. Anakin moaned as Obi-wan’s kisses turned to nips turned to long bites with loud sucking noises. Hickeys were a bad idea. A really bad idea. But Obi-wan just couldn’t help himself.

He got closer to Anakin’s entrance. Before getting too close, though, he opened his jaw wide and bit down hard on Anakin’s ass. Anakin let out a loud yelp from the pain. Obi-wan didn’t let up, though. There was a rabid desire to leave a mark - to know that under all of the clothes and makeup, that Anakin had a piece of Obi-wan on him at all times.

How was it possible to be so possessive over something you didn’t own?

Anakin spread his legs as Obi-wan’s tongue moved further south, starting to tease at his hole. He could feel Anakin’s feet on his back. His tongue gently lapped against Anakin’s entrance, causing him to arch his back from the delicate sensation. His hand flew down to caress Obi-wan’s head as he started to move his jaw, swirling his tongue and gently pushing it into Anakin. 

Anakin gasped. “Fuck, Obi-wan!” He hissed out, his head throwing back against the table. His heels crossed behind Obi-wan’s head, and his thighs tightened against the sides of his head. “Obi-wan, Obi-wan, Obi-wan…” He muttered his name over and over like a prayer, like a worship song. He lay there and took everything Obi-wan had to give - every inch of his tongue, every nuzzle of his face, every bruising grip into his thighs. 

Every part of Anakin tasted like sunshine. This man was liquid gold.

Obi-wan continued to lick and rotate his tongue in slowly, painful circles. Anakin’s hips moved in time with his motions. He moved a hand and lay it down hard onto Anakin’s stomach. He grabbed, digging his nails into the flesh and squishing his stomach under his hand. He could feel the muscles of the stomach tightening, harder and harder and harder.

He slicked his entrance, daring to reach around and stick just one knuckle of his finger into Anakin’s tight hole. That’s all it took for Anakin to let out a loud whine and stutter his hips as strands of cum iced his skin and pooled in the line of his toned stomach. The fact that Anakin could finish without any contact with his member - just the  _ idea  _ that Anakin could one day cum just from his cock - sent Obi-wan’s head spinning.

Obi-wan stood up, wiping drool from his lips. He stood between Anakin’s legs, looking down at the mess on the table before him. Anakin was breathing hard, his eyes barely fluttering open to look up at him. He looked embarrassed, but also too pleasured to care.

“Stay here.” Obi-wan muttered and ran his hands over Anakin’s thighs. “Let me clean you up.”

“That escalated quickly.” Anakin was still catching his breath, but he shot Obi-wan a crooked smile. He winced as he started to sit up. “I’m...um…” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Don’t.” Obi-wan said. He pushed Anakin’s hair behind his ear. “Give me a moment.” Obi-wan walked to grab some paper towels from the bathroom and came back to gently clean up Anakin. He placed a kiss on his forehead as he did so.

Anakin and Obi-wan ended up getting dressed, kissing a bit, and then standing there a bit too close while they both waited for a taxi. 

“I really enjoyed the shoot today.” Anakin said. “Outside of, you know. Everything.”

“I did too. You are wonderful - per the usual.” He raised a hand and motioned to a taxi passing. “This is for you, okay? Get home safe. Text me when you get home.”

“Oh, yeah.” He nodded. He waited, thinking, and then kissed Obi-wan on the cheek. “I’ll see you soon?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ll still answer my messages?”

“Of course.”

“Cool.” He grinned, before rushing to the taxi and waving goodbye. 

Obi-wan stared up at his ceiling that night, running the events of the day over and over in his head. Dread was kicking in. He could wax poetry about how Anakin looked, sounded, felt. He could fill pages with it if he really wanted to try to get back into writing. But that didn’t stop a pit from forming inside of him.

His nostrils were filling up with liquid. His desire to stay afloat was waning. He was drowning, for real this time. 

The same feeling overtook him as the days went on. He followed Satine and Anakin all over the city as they continued to make Anakin into a perfect show dog. He watched as Anakin learned to runway walk, as Anakin learned to pose in person. He had a lot of grace left to gain, but the seeds were planted. And he gave him a thumbs-up from across the room. Obi-wan watched as he practiced posing here and there, got fitted for every piece of clothing imaginable, as he learned to fly. 

And Anakin had lessons about interviews, though those were rougher than the rest.

All in all, Obi-wan found himself starting to treat Anakin like a habit. Waking up meant texting Anakin. Making his schedule meant seeing Anakin. Intimate activities meant thinking of Anakin. It wasn’t an obsession, by textbook definition. But it was still possibly a bit unnatural. That didn’t mean he wanted it to stop.

It just meant that he was watching his life make a sharp left into oncoming traffic, and he couldn’t stop the momentum if he tried.

Anakin’s interview was approaching closer day by day by day. Which of course meant that Obi-wan’s anxiety was boiling. He felt like it was his responsibility to help the poor kid figure out this stuff -  _ he  _ was at fault for him being put in this world anyway. Satine appreciated the support, but that didn’t mean that she was going to stop prodding the bear. 

“He looks lovely today, doesn’t he?” She would lilt.

“He looks like Anakin, that’s for sure.” Obi-wan would focus on his coffee.

Was it guilt? Not exactly. It was fear. A whole river of fear. And there was a dam that was failing. But perhaps fear was the wrong word - maybe excitement was it. It was a feeling that was hard to explain if anyone asked, but it wasn’t a shy feeling. It wasn’t hiding. It was present every time Obi-wan guided Anakin out of a room with his hand on his back. It was present every time Anakin would look around before kissing Obi-wan on the cheek.

Obi-wan had a hunch what these oncoming feelings were. But he would never say the word aloud. 

The day before the interview, a rainy Thursday, Obi-wan found himself standing outside of Anakin’s door. He had walked down the storm soaked streets, walking through the day’s plans in his mind. It was his job to help get Anakin an outfit before reporting to Satine that evening. And standing here - on the steps, outside the door, in the cool city wind - he realized that maybe he wanted to be at this door more. It was only the second time. Maybe he wanted a third, fourth and fifth.

He felt like a madman.

The idea of obsession is a tricky one. Mainly because the line between obsession and love is so thin. And maybe people denying themselves of feeling bright, beautiful love will convince themselves that they are pitiful and obsessed. Especially when it happens too quickly, too naturally. It happens like breathing. Time passes slower. Minutes are eternal. And people convince themselves that this feeling - this lightning - is obsession. Because the idea of being crazy is safer than the idea of being vulnerable.

Obi-wan knocked on the door.

Anakin answered, his facing lighting up when he saw Obi-wan. “Oh, hey! I didn’t see the time.” 

Obi-wan was taken aback by the image of Anakin, standing there, with only one hand. His other arm stopped at the elbow, clean and mostly scarless. He was not unaware that his arm was a prosthetic - he had shot the man mostly naked at least twice now - but he had never seen it removed. He regretfully had to admit he was a little shocked. 

Anakin noticed and just chuckled. He rolled his eyes and motioned Obi-wan in with his other arm. “Prosthetics need to be cleaned. It’s washing day. Probably should’ve warned you.”

“No, no. My apologies if I looked perturbed.”

Anakin shrugged. “Like I said. Should have warned you.”

They both walked into the townhome. It was like walking into the set of a sitcom. There was something to look at in every corner. Colors and lights poured from every inch. It radiated an energy, an electric vibration, that made Obi-wan just feel  _ better.  _ It must be impossible to feel upset for long in an environment full of such wonder. 

Obi-wan followed Anakin up the stairs to the main living room floor. That’s where they met a white dog with a blue collar, fluffy and purse-sized. “Hey, R2.” Anakin greeted the dog while turning to go to the kitchen. “My room is upstairs! I’ll get myself together if you want to go ahead and see Padme.

“What did you say the puppy’s name was again?”

“R2.” Anakin said.

“Hello there, R2.” He smiled down at the puppy. “Where did that name come from?” He looked down at the little dog staring back up at him.

“I used to ‘invent’ when I was a kid. I named him after a robot I used to imagine building.” Anakin called from the kitchen. “Padme got to pick the dog. I got to pick the name. Head upstairs, I’ll be up in a bit.”

Obi-wan did so, the little dog following him up to the third level. This floor was one big bedroom, with screens and curtains separating what was most likely Padme’s area from Anakin’s. The difference was stark - mature navys and golds and beautiful lace mixed with reds and blacks and browns and leather. 

“Obi-wan!” Padme’s voice sounded from the other side of the room, and within moments he was hugging her. Once she pulled away, she looked up at him and adjusted his shirt collar. “I was so excited to hear you were coming over. Both to get him into shape, but also just because I’ve really missed you. How are you?”

“I’m doing well.”

“I’ve heard.” She said. Those words carried a lot of weight.

Anakin arrived upstairs, arm strapped on. Once he slipped it back on, it was like nothing ever happened. Coruscant medicinal practices were truly a miracle. He seemed to brighten seeing two of his favorite people in the same room. There was something about seeing Anakin in more of a one-on-one setting that placated his anxieties.

It seemed that everything was going to go swimmingly. Anakin said he had an outfit planned, he said he had worked extra hard to put it together. This would be so smooth - they could just go to Satine’s office like it was nothing.

And then Anakin had come out of the bathroom in the outfit. And it was, to put it kindly, a disaster of momentous proportions.

Padme had moved to her bed, feeding ramen to herself with flowery chopsticks. She was shaking her head. “No, no, no.” She said. “That looks horrific, Ani.”

“Yes, like she said.” Obi-wan said. “Horrific.”

“Well, I’m offended!” Anakin put his hands on his hips, defiant as ever. “I thought the orange looked nice!”

“Orange and black makes you look like it’s Halloween.” Obi-wan said.

“You look like a traffic cone!” She cried.

“It’s not like I have a lot to choose from! I didn’t even know I was getting interviewed until like - what - a few days ago?”

“Just buy a new suit.” Padme said. The small dog seemed to nod in agreement with her. 

“Nope.” He shook his head. “Not spending money for one interview.”

“You can get a lot of wear out of a suit!” She cried. 

“Padme is right.” Obi-wan pushes away from the wall to go over to Anakin. He started to pick with the sleeves of the neon orange shirt, pulling the buttons at the front. He was completely lost to his work mindset. “This won’t do. A suit is better. Not a tie. You aren’t a tie person. Black suit, maroon button up. Open at the top. Hmm...yes. But it needs to fit.”

Padme just nodded along with everything he said between her bites. Obi-wan had an industry eye. A trained model wouldn’t say no to his advice. And so Padme couldn’t disagree. And Anakin, sighing in defeat, supposed he wouldn’t either. “Well, fine. Fine. But I don’t think I have enough money for a new suit-”

Obi-wan raised his hand to stop him. “I’ve got it.” 

Anakin looked shocked. He shook his head and waved Obi-wan off. “No, I can’t accept that kind of gift.”

“Consider it a congratulations.” He smirked. “And a thank you, for ensuring I have a career for the next ten years.”

“I can’t-”

“It’s a gift.” Obi-wan stopped him by holding up a hand. “Please. For me.”

Anakin hesitated before nodding. “Fine. But I’m paying you back eventually.”

Padme’s eyes flit between them. She gave Anakin a knowing look before taking another bite of her ramen. When she swallowed, she said, “Well. I hope you won’t be that obvious on set.”

Anakin laughed. Obi-wan did not.

A few hours later and Anakin had a new black suit, a new pair of shoes and a big smile on his face. He had kissed Obi-wan on the cheek to thank him and bought him coffee from a local shop. He kept talking about paying him back, and Obi-wan stopped trying to get him to drop it. Instead, he decided that anything Anakin tried to give to him would be given back tenfold.

Obi-wan would have bought him anything he wanted. Even if it was just for a kiss on the cheek. 

“You know. I’m still waiting.” Anakin said, as they taxied from one side of the city to the other.

“For…?” Obi-wan raised an eyebrow.

“The date.” He said. He turned away and looked out the window. He raised a finger and traced the skyline as the car sped through the traffic. Raindrops raced on the glass. “I’m still waiting for the date. I think I’m getting close, but it’s hard to see without a scorecard.”

Obi-wan stared at Anakin as Anakin stared at the world. The grey light hit his eye just right. They looked like they were glowing. He was stuck, though. His tongue stuck in his mouth. He wanted to say something, anything. But that word - ‘date’ - disarmed him. “The score isn’t important.”

“So that must mean my score is low.” Anakin groaned. As he bemoaned the anguish of being unaware of his possible success, Obi-wan bemoaned the fact they were almost to Satine’s office.

“I’ll be there the whole time during the interview if you need me.” He said after the silence got too tense to bear.

“That’ll help a lot.”

“We’re in your corner. Satine and I.”

A smile played at his lips. “Thank you.”

The next day, Anakin spent the morning getting his hair done and having Satine run over the etiquette. Obi-wan would personally like to think that Anakin was a well-mannered kid - but he also knew that etiquette lessons would fall on deaf ears. Especially since Anakin looked like he was about to explode with this stranger washing and styling his bright-colored locks.

The interview that evening went both better and worse that Obi-wan could have ever expected. The better outweighed the bad. And the bad was more comical than ever. No matter how Obi-wan tried to explain it to himself, one thing remained - it was memorable. And Anakin would remain a person of interest.

When the newsman led Anakin onto the set, got him all set up and then started the cameras, Obi-wan already felt in his gut that everything was about to be a rollercoaster. He was not wrong.

“Was that  _ really  _ your first ever shoot?” The interviewer raised an eyebrow.

Anakin shrugged. “Well, unless you count headshots.” He was slumped back in his chair, cocky and relaxed. It must have been a nervous defence mechanism, thought it didn’t look it.

“How am I supposed to believe you?” He chuckled. 

“I think that with a great partner and great photographer, any newbie can turn into a professional.”

“So you credit your sudden success to Padme Amidala and Obi-Wan Kenobi, then?”

He nodded. “Without a shadow of a doubt.”

Obi-wan smiled at that. Satine nudged him and leaned in. “I told you.” She whispered. “Not one conversation without mentioning you.”

He nudged her back. Hard.

“Now I do have to ask - because of course I do. Social media is completely buzzing. Anakin, do you have a girlfriend?” The interviewer wiggled his eyebrows.

“Oh, no.” Anakin answered a bit too quickly. A bit too honestly. He shook his head and furrowed his brow. “I don’t at all.”

Obi-wan winced.

“Really?”

“Why would that be important to ask?” Anakin asked it like a real question. But Obi-wan, and anyone else, took it as an act of blatant defiance. And as the questions kept coming and the interview was drawing to a close, the acts of defiance continued.

“One last question. So not only are you a new model, but you’re a new model with a prosthetic arm.”

Anakin frowned. “So?”

Obi-wan snorted. 

“I’m just saying, this is a big deal, right?”

“Only if you make it one.” Anakin shifted in his seat. He was obviously uncomfortable and he wasn’t even trying to hide it. 

“Don’t you want to talk about overcoming everything to get to where you are today?”

“...my daily life isn’t something to overcome.”

Obi-wan had to admit that seeing Anakin being so brute in such a public setting made him smile. It was a mixture of pride and utter bewilderment. He had yet to fully see this side of Anakin outside of the occasional sassy quip. And he truly enjoyed it.

When the interview was finally over, Satine was scrolling through her phone with glee. He was internet famous - again. The mysterious bad boy. The defiant little shit. This was good. This was good for her, good for him. Good for all of them. 

“So?” Anakin approached Obi-wan first, arms out in celebration. “How did I do?”

Obi-wan couldn’t stop the first words to leave his mouth. “How about you come home with me?”

That made Anakin smile.

One taxi ride later and he was smiling in Obi-wan’s flat.

“You live here?” Anakin looked around, twirling a bit as he took in everything. Obi-wan didn’t usually have people around and seeing someone walking in his space made him feel naked. “It doesn’t look like you. It looks all…”

“Modern?”

“Boring.” He said. “You can do better than this.” 

He scoffed. “Oh, really?”

“This just doesn’t feel like you.” Anakin traced a finger over his black countertop. He leaned down to look at the overly-minimalistic edges to all the furniture.

“It’s clean, it’s simple, it’s organized-”

“There’s no art.” Anakin said. He thought for a moment and then nodded. “That’s it. There’s no art. No color. It’s boring.” He turned to look at Obi-wan. “You aren’t boring. Necessarily.”

“‘Necessarily’. There’s that word again.” He took off his suit jacket and flung it over the back of a chair. He looked back up and Anakin was standing there, silhouetted against his window and the city lights. He was looking over everything, frozen in time as he did so.

He walked up to Anakin and placed his hand on the small of Anakin’s back. “Do you like what you see?” He said in a soft tone.

Anakin turned his head to look at him and smiled. “Do you mean the city?”

He nodded.

“Oh, of course. I dreamed of moving here a lot as a kid. My mom was super supportive. And now I’m here, and everything felt kind of...fake? For a while?” He chuckled and shook his head. “I feel like I sound so stupid.”

“No, no. Say it.” He slid his hand to sit on Anakin’s waist. “You don’t sound stupid.”

“I don’t know. I just feel like I was in purgatory for so long. And I feel like this, like what, last month? Month and a half? It just feels like stuffs finally moving. And Padme is so proud, and my mom is so excited for me.” Anakin smiled. “I don’t know. It’s just nice. I have a cool new job. And I have you.”

“Me?”

“You.” Anakin nodded. And then he lowered his head down and kissed him.

Neither of them knew how it happened but suddenly Anakin was up on a decorative table against the wall with his legs open and his mouth against Obi-wan’s.

Anakin was drawing him in, closer and closer and closer. His mouth parted, welcoming Obi-wan’s tongue into his mouth with a needy whine. He was pulling, tugging,  _ dragging  _ him into his very soul. His legs tightened around his waist and his feet crossed against Obi-wan’s thighs. Closer and closer and closer.

“I’m not going to sleep with you tonight.” Obi-wan muttered into Anakin’s mouth.

“Why not?” He said back, his hands twisting into the other man’s hair.

“It’s not the right time.” He said.

Anakin groaned in annoyance and threw his head back against the wall. “Then when  _ is  _ the right time? The  _ date?” _

“Just trust me, darling.” He pulled away and took a moment just to drink in Anakin like this, flushed and glistening in the moonlight in his apartment. His eyes seemed to be glowing, just like in the car the other day. Obi-wan had a new appreciation for blue eyes. “You know...I’m not a jealous person.”

“Yeah?”

“But I must admit, I take a sick satisfaction in knowing that no one else in my world has seen you like this.” He leaned in and kissed up Anakin’s neck. He was being soft, softer than before. He was simply enjoying the feeling of Anakin’s legs around his waist, his skin against his skin, his scent around him. After the moment had passed, he sighed against Anakin’s ear. “Let’s go to bed then, shall we?”

“I thought you said-”

“Go to bed to  _ sleep _ , Anakin.”

They ended up in the bedroom. Anakin remarked that it was warmer, but still - it didn’t  _ feel _ like Obi-wan. They both ended up his bed, pausing to kiss every so often. But finally, Obi-wan got them to rest. Obi-wan lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, while Anakin wrapped their legs together, put his head on his chest and clung to him with his one arm. The other lay on the dresser.

In the dark, Anakin’s breathing slowly turned from hyper to level, fast to slow. His skin got warmer when he slept. Obi-wan savored the feeling of skin on skin, the feeling of Anakin’s hair against his neck. He tried a little too long to memorize the moment. But finally, when the antagonizing of himself was over, he closed his eyes.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the positive response to the first chapter! This is going to be a very straight-forward AU with no angst, no pain. Just good vibes and hot smut. We're all here for a good time, since 2020 refuses to give that to us anyway :P So enjoy! :D


	3. Chapter 3

_ “Great photography is about depth of feeling, not depth of field.” _

— Peter Adams

“Now, left foot first.” 

Anakin was off to the races. With his eyes trained to the horizon, his arms loose at his sides, he started to glide across the floor. He lifted his jaw just a bit, the shadow leaving his eyes and his lips glistening just so in the dingy yellow lighting.

“Look a little less...murder-y.” The walking coach called out. 

He was shushed quickly by Satine. “I like the murder-y!”

Every step echoed a deep  _ clunk  _ in the studio. His shoes were Italian. And loud. And his step was confident. It stayed at a steady rhythm, over and over and over, until he stopped in front of the coach, Satine, and Obi-wan. He shifted his weight in his legs, winked at Obi-wan, and then turned.

This kind of moment was starting to become passé, at least in the mind of Obi-wan. He had lived it several times over at this point. Anakin had his first runway audition coming up. And Satine refused to let Anakin practice without Obi-wan. 

It had been like this for weeks now. Satine had him in a chokehold. To be fair, he was getting paid well. But other clients were slipping through his fingers. If they weren’t Padme, Satine’s odd model or Anakin, it just wasn’t happening. It wouldn’t fit into the schedule - the schedule made for him. He was just window-dressing. 

He found out very quickly that this wasn’t something he minded, though. It left like there was a genuine path, a real mission. A point. A purpose. For years, he had shot for work - now, Anakin was his job. And something was nice about having a center for it all. A sun for everything to circle.

Anakin didn’t seem to hate being the center either. But he hated the hair stylists. And the manicurists. And he wanted to bite the lady that gave him facials. But he enjoyed everything else. Truly, he did. He especially enjoyed being with Obi-wan. He smiled brighter, acted happier. When Obi-wan was around, he cooperated.

This was necessary for Anakin’s current objective. Cooperation was the most important thing he needed right now. There was a runway show, for a designer known quite well by anyone who was anyone. And as Anakin’s presence in the media grew, the more interested this designer was in having him walk in their show. But that meant he needed to learn to walk. So Satine was fully dedicated to teaching him now.

Anakin wasn’t clumsy. It was too juvenile to call him that. But he wasn’t exactly light on his feet, if it wasn’t obvious from all the times Obi-wan had seen or heard that man trip or run into something. So the coaching was more than necessary.

When Anakin reached his mark again, he turned on his feet and held out his arms in triumph. “So? How did I do?”

The coach shook her head. “Go ahead. Left foot first. And  _ go!” _

And the cycle continued until the day of the show. 

Obi-wan felt instantly out of his element the second he entered the auditorium. The runway was long and large but simple. Black and white were the only colors in the room. The logo of the designer was projected on the stage wall and the lighting somehow managed to be subdued yet perfect for photography. He had never shot a show like this before. But he wasn’t taking any photos today -  _ it  _ wasn’t his to find. He was here for support, emotional or otherwise.

The crowds trickling in occupied Satine long enough for Obi-wan to take a moment to look around and absorb everything. Was this  _ really  _ the first social event he had been to in months? That was just flat out embarrassing. He really had been  _ that  _ distracted. He felt like he had to learn to function in events again. He stepped aside and marked where everything was, where everyone was. He took note of what he could use to continue stale small talk. And he took note of the best ways to escape conversations.

“Mr. Kenobi?” A shaking intern with coffee for blood appeared next to him, nearly startling him. “Mr. Skywalker is asking for you backstage.”

That’s all he needed to hear to go running. He followed the intern to the backstage rooms and weaved around glowing, tan, Renaissance-like models. His senses were overwhelmed with the smell of hairspray and perfume. Music played from cellphones, voices were shouting back and forth, racks of clothes were lining every single wall. Mirrors were everywhere. The lighting was so bright that it was almost painful. 

And amongst it all, haloed by a makeup ringlight, was Anakin. He was leaning on the back of a chair, in just pants, a tank and a blazer, rubbing the back of his neck while two ladies fawned over his hair and his hands and his exposed skin. As if he felt his presence, Anakin turned and locked eyes without Obi-wan without missing a beat. He raised his hand and waved, his face changing from polite to excited. “Hey!” He turned to the girls and said something before rushing away. “They got you!”

“Of course they did. What’s going on?” Obi-wan smiled right back. Anakin had that effect on him.

Anakin motioned with his head towards the far side of the room, where it was darker and quieter. Obi-wan lead the way. Once they reached the corner, Obi-wan crossed his arms and got comfortable against the wall. “What is it?”

“I am  _ begging you  _ to bring me just one item of food with sugar in it.” His hands were clasped like he was praying. He looked like he was moments away from losing his grip on reality.

“Are you alright?”

“No!” He whisper-screamed. “All I’ve been allowed to eat since I woke up is green tea and salad without dressing.  _ Without dressing.  _ What is the point of eating salad without dressing? That’s just lettuce! Lettuce tastes like shit!”

Obi-wan’s eyes scanned him over, and he forced himself not to be distracted by the extremely tight pants he was wearing. “If I had known you would be suffering so greatly, I would have brought you a whole meal.”

“I will take a meal. A big one. As soon as possible.”

“It’s barbaric that you can’t eat anything.” He muttered. He quickly surveyed the area around them. After deeming it safe enough, he leaned in close. “How about I take you out to dinner after this?”

“It’ll be late.”

“Then I’ll make you dinner.”

“At your place?”

“You can stay with me again.”

“At least that’ll give me the motivation to get through this.” Anakin sighed. 

Obi-wan placed a steady hand against Anakin’s forearm. “This is nothing.”

“I just need to verbally hear you tell me that I am going to be okay.” Anakin’s eyes revealed a tragic innocence, a vulnerable fear.

He took Anakin’s warm shoulders in his large hands. He leaned in, close enough to smell the makeup on his face. “Anakin.” He said softly. “I swear to you that you are fine. You will be fine, for every moment here onwards.”

Anakin breathed in deep, eyes closing. When he exhaled, his body trembled a little. His eyes snapped open. “Okay. Thank you.” He smiled in a gracious, loving way that made Obi-wan’s stomach jump right off a cliff. 

Before long, Obi-wan was safe in his audience seat, next to a micromanaging Satine. She was flittering about, adjusting her clothes and Obi-wan’s in her nervous state. “Your shirt has wrinkles.” She muttered. She pulled at the collar. She was distracting herself.

“He’s going to do wonderfully.” Obi-wan gave her the most reassuring look that he could.

“Just pray with me that he won’t trip!”

He tripped. Just a little one. But it was a trip nonetheless. He recovered well, though. He wasn’t the first on stage and he wasn’t the last so most people probably didn’t even notice. But Obi-wan and Satine did. And Satine was close to collapsing and convulsing. He ran his fingers up and down her arm to sooth her, but he was sure he could boil water on her head.

When Anakin finally made it to the end of the runway, the crowd seemed thoroughly pleased. Cameras were flashing and people were clapping. And before Anakin turned around, he met Obi-wan’s eyes and winked at him. The woman next to Obi-wan thought it was for her and she gasped with stars in her eyes. Obi-wan didn’t want to shatter her dreams, so he just lowered his head and let his blush be personal.

And that was just outfit number one. 

By his second round, he had obviously found his stride. Anakin was in his element now. And because of that, Obi-wan got a better view of his face. If he was nervous, it didn’t show. He had the aura of an old film actor, but the face of a seasoned apathetic model. The combination was intoxicating. And Satine was thrilled. Anakin managed, once again, to allure. 

Every single time Anakin reached the end of the walk, he winked at Obi-wan. And every time, Obi-wan hid his face away like a schoolgirl. Bless the stars that Satine was too busy to notice otherwise he would never hear the end of it. 

During an all-women’s portion of the show, Obi-wan’s phone buzzed. 

**thanks 4 checking on me :)**

**Of course. Do you want me to meet you backstage after the show?**

**plz**

During the taxi ride after the end of the show, Anakin lay his head on Obi-wan’s shoulder and muttered something about being ready for bed. The moonlight made his skin look like marble, his hair look like silk. Obi-wan reached over and took Anakin’s hand in his, squeezing it and burying his face in Anakin’s hair. His shampoo smelled like lemon. His sweatpants were warm against Obi-wan’s suit pants. He smiled.

“I tripped.” Anakin muttered out into the fabric of Obi-wan’s jacket.

“I saw.”

“But I didn’t fall.” 

“You didn’t.”

They arrived at Obi-wan’s apartment and Anakin jumped in the shower while Obi-wan pulled out some leftovers from the last week. And he whipped out his special vanilla coffee, to give Anakin something sweet. When Anakin came back, wrapped up in the robe Obi-wan left out for him, he felt a weird naturality to how he brought Anakin’s food to the table and left him there while he went to shower himself.

At the end of his own shower, Obi-wan crawled into bed in just his pajama pants and started to check his emails on his phone. There were  _ hundreds.  _ Anakin’s  _ it  _ had been seen in motion, and Satine had forwarded every single request she received about Anakin to him. The amount was truly overwhelming. If Obi-wan was just a few years younger, he would have simply turned off his phone and ignored it for hours. In fact, he was tempted to. But he supposed he would be an adult about it.

By the time Obi-wan was done responding to every little email inquiry from the last hour, Anakin was already stripped for bed with his arm laying on the far dresser. He was standing at the foot of the bed, waiting eagerly. He smiled when Obi-wan finally set the phone aside. “I like the idea of doing this more often. If you’ll allow it.” He said. He started to crawl up the bed. “I don’t want to invite myself over, but I do.”

“Then do it.” Obi-wan would need to be restrained before he just went and got Anakin a spare key. “I don’t mind the company.”

“But I’ll just intrude, wouldn’t I?”

“I just said that you wouldn’t.” Obi-wan leaned forward and pulled Anakin to lay on his chest. “I will always welcome your heat in my bed.” 

Anakin’s arm tucked under him while his hand went up to run over Obi-wan’s neck. “What if I end up never leaving?”

“Never?”

“Never ever.” Anakin pulled himself forward to kiss Obi-wan’s cheek.

Obi-wan wrapped both of his arms around Anakin’s body and let his eyes shut as the wave of warm flowed over him. He wished he had his camera set up on a timer somewhere in this room. He wanted to capture this. He wanted to always be able to look and see how Anakin rests on him. He wanted to be able to study the emotions on his face. And he wanted to look at himself, look at how his hands rest large on Anakin’s back so he never had to forget.

Never ever.

That’s all Obi-wan thought of that night in his dreams.

Never ever.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Anakin kneeled over Obi-wan as his vision cleared. The morning light was like a warm silver stream, glittering on the ceiling. And haloed by it was Anakin, his hair shining redder and his skin glowing. The freckles by his nose seemed more prominent. “I tried to make you coffee. Don’t get mad at me for the mess, I can clean your press in a bit.”

Obi-wan pushed himself onto his hands. Anakin was sitting on the edge of the bed next to him, holding out the grey mug. The smell of burnt coffee flooded his senses. He rubbed his eyes and looked to the window on the side of the bed where Anakin slept. “What time is it?”

“It’s only, like, nine. And I know that we don’t have anything on the schedule until this afternoon. So I hope nine wasn’t sleeping in for you or something.” He pushed the mug towards his hands. “Go on. Take it.”

He did. And he took a disoriented sip. The coffee woke him up instantly - not because it was decently caffeinated, but because it was so horrible that he felt like he drank sand and dishwater. He held back the impulse to retch.

“Is it good?” Anakin looked at him expectantly. 

He looked so proud and excited that Obi-wan didn’t have the heart to disappoint. So Obi-wan just smiled tightly and nodded, giving a halfhearted thumbs up. “It’s wonderful.” Anakin had definitely mixed up the salt and sugar. Bless his gorgeous heart.

“Come to breakfast with me.” Anakin said. Before Obi-wan could say anything, Anakin held up his hands in defeat. “Don’t worry. It’s not a date.” 

“Where do you want to take me?”

“There’s this little irish pub a few blocks away from here. They do a really good brunch. I promise you won’t hate it.”

Obi-wan took another sip of his coffee. He would teach Anakin how to make it better later. “I’m just shocked that I was so exhausted. I thought for sure I would get up before you.”

Anakin shook his head. “Nightmares. We got lucky last time. I’ve been wide awake since, like, four.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“I don’t want to bother you. But I hope you’ll take me up on brunch. If you’re that interested in my non-existent sleep schedule, I can tell you all about it over a waffle. They have  _ killer  _ waffles.”

When they got seated at the restaurant a while later and got their food, Anakin wasted no time. “Do you mind if I get a little invasive?” He asked through a bite of his food.

Obi-wan paused cutting his omelette and raised his eyebrows. “Define ‘invasive’? Because we are in public and I would hate to cause a scene.”

Anakin grinned. “I like it. When you sass me back.”

“Get invasive and I might sass back more.” He said.

“Well...I wanted to know what was up with you and dating.”

Obi-wan straightened up like he had just been shocked. “Oh.”

“You don’t have to answer!”

“I don’t want to go into all the details.” Obi-wan folded his hands on the table.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.” He said. “I just...you know.” He smiled sheepishly. “I guess I have to start being realistic, yeah?”

He blinked hard. “What?”

“Realistic. You know. About this.” Anakin motioned between them. “Should I give up, should I keep trying. All those fun thoughts.”

Obi-wan felt a hollowness at the idea of Anakin giving up. “I’ll be as honest as I can muster with you, then.”

“That’s all I can ask for.” He leaned forward eagerly with two hands on the table. “Okay. Go.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

“Well…” He cleared his throat. “I’ve dated people before.” He started to speak, trying to purge the urge to shut up and run. He was talking around a lump in his throat. “And none of the relationships necessarily went wrong. But none of them felt...real enough.”

“In what way?” Anakin wasn’t even blinking. He was fully tuned in. 

“I watched my mother go through divorce after divorce. And, for a while, I thought that was just how life works. You break up, you move on. Over and over. I suppose for some people that is now it is. But something inside of me seemed to…” He trailed off. His eyes fell to the table. “I feel embarrassed saying any of this out loud.”

“Don’t be.” He was enraptured.

“I just...While I was dating Satine, I came to a terrifying conclusion about what it means to be romantically involved. You either get married, or you break up. It’s forever, or it’s not. If it doesn’t stop...that’s your life. And I think that’s the same fear my mother had. Choices. Big, life-ending choices. And I lived like that - um, live like that.” He shifted around in his seat. “Forever is just...daunting. And I haven’t met anyone that I feel comfortable facing that great unending horizon with…” He looked up at Anakin and hesitated to finish his sentence. “...yet.”

Anakin nodded slowly. “Yet.” He traced his finger over the edge of his plate. “So...the idea of being stuck scares you?”

“No.” He shook his head. “It’s not...being stuck. It’s the idea of-”

“Trusting someone forever.” Anakin said. “And trusting that you're their forever too.”

Obi-wan nodded slowly. “Yes. That’s more accurate.”

“Because forever is fragile when it’s dependent on someone else.” Anakin’s voice was breathier. He looked around and then his eyes met Obi-wan’s. “What? Don’t look so shocked. I  _ do  _ have a brain. I’m not just a bimbo model.”

“I know you have a brain. I’m just always perturbed when someone can vocalize my feelings better than me.” He sighed. “But yes. You’re right. I don’t like the idea of the dependence. Because I can trust myself. But I am scared of what someone else could do to me while I trust them.”

“That part never scared me.” Anakin said thoughtfully. The look in his eyes showed that his mind was somewhere different, somewhere far away from the waffle in front of him. “I think what scared me more was the idea of a forever alone.”

Hearing those words out of his mouth made Obi-wan jump to lean forward and grab Anakin’s hand from across the table. “You shouldn’t worry about that. You’re lovely, darling.” His voice was soft. “I can’t imagine you ever being alone. Or unhappy.”

“Now turn those words around to you.” Anakin squeezed his hand. “You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met in my entire life. If not the best.” The last part of his sentence seemed to get stuck in his throat for a moment. “But…”

Obi-wan squeezed his hand back.

That was the encouragement he needed. “I think whoever gets forever with you is going to be extremely lucky.” He looked a bit deflated. A bit stifled.

Obi-wan couldn’t stand the look of him being so forlorn. And maybe seeing Anakin losing his grip on his usual cheery disposition is what it took for Obi-wan to make the final leap into his own oblivion.

“Anakin.” He leaned in a bit over his omelette. “You are easily the most beautiful person I’ve ever had the honor of seeing. Anyone would be blessed to spend that deep, dark forever by your side. And I need you to remember that fact. Especially in moments like this, where I can’t talk about what I need to and don’t have the courage to do what I know in my heart I need to do.”

Anakin’s eyes were wide and a pink flush was pouring over his cheeks and down his neck. “Oh…” He looked caught between smiling and hiding his face, so instead he looked down at his waffle. “So...um...I…”

Obi-wan gave his hand a final squeeze before pulling away. “I don’t recall ever seeing you properly speechless before but I can’t say I don’t mind it.”

That brought Anakin back. He grinned. “Don’t worry, those moments are few and far between. Can’t have anyone forgetting the sound of my voice.”

“I don’t think I could ever forget.” Obi-wan chuckled. “For more than one reason.”

“I hope you enjoyed your morning breakfast therapy.” Anakin met his eyes again and winked. “Emotional release goes great with orange juice.”

They both finished their meals, stood up and headed for the door.

“So. Just double-checking. Haven’t earned a date yet.”

He shook his head. “Not yet.”

Anakin nodded. “Understandable. But I am on my way?”

“You get closer by the minute.” Obi-wan said. “Just be patient with me.”

“I’m willing to be patient.”

Obi-wan felt a weird trickle of relief warm his spine. “Wonderful.”

A mischievous grin consumed his face. “My mom always taught me to be patient with my elders.”

He smacked Anakin’s arm.

After laughing and adjusting his jacket, Anakin put a hand on Obi-wan’s shoulder. “But yeah, I can be patient. But only on one condition.”

“Oh?” Obi-wan raised an eyebrow. “Demanding, are we?”

“Kiss me. Right here.” Anakin said. “In front of the whole restaurant. Then I’ll be patient.”

“And did you?” Satine asked, deeply intrigued as Obi-wan recounted the entire morning to her per her desperate request. She clutched her purse to her chest like an anchor.

Obi-wan leaned back on his living room sofa and propped his feet up, holding his tea and laptop close. “Yes. I did. I kissed him. And then I took him home.”

“Home as in here?” She snuggled into the other side of his couch.

“Home as in the place he legally lives.” Obi-wan sighed. His eyes darted out to the nightlights of the city from his window. He knew his windows faced the wrong direction, but he liked to pretend sometimes that he could see Anakin’s townhome from here.

Satine rolled her eyes. “Well. You’ll be glad to know that you don’t have to be all secretive and sneaky anymore.” She opened her purse and dug for a moment. “I know you don’t read tabloids. I avoid them a bit but my intern spotted this in a grocery store and it’s a part of their job to bring everything to me.”

Obi-wan did  _ not  _ like the sound of that. He took a long sip of tea and felt the look of dissatisfaction take root on his face. His eyebrows lowered more and more into a near-deadly glare as Satine flipped through the pages of an overly saturated magazine and showed him a glossy page that had him leading Anakin by the waist out of the backdoor of the runway show.

“It’s not a scandal. I’m not going to ask anything of either of you.” She said. “I just thought you should know that dates might be a little less private and you deserved a warning.”

Obi-wan was about to instinctively shut down Satine’s use of the word ‘date’, but he caught himself. He swallowed and nodded. “Thank you. For the warning.”

Satine noticed but she didn’t risk bursting the bubble by calling him out. Instead, she just smiled in her knowing way. “Might I suggest some rooftop bars in downtown? It’s impossible for media to get into the building.”

“I don’t think he’s the bar type.” Obi-wan sipped his tea. “He likes eating real meals. He’s the hungriest person I’ve ever met.”

“Well, he better eat while he can right now. This next runway show is super strict.” She sighed.

“So uncivilized.” He sighed. “I have half a mind to take legal action for how the other show treated him.”

That made her laugh. “Obi-wan Kenobi, going to court over his boyfriend’s right to eat cake. How knightly.”

Obi-wan refused to let Anakin starve. Before his newest show a few weeks later, he made so much food that Anakin was going to bed full like he had never been before. He used this as an excuse to whip out cooking skills he hadn’t used for years, jumping back into a rhythm he hadn’t even remembered he could play. Then, closer to the show, he made everything as clean and healthy as physically possible. That way Anakin could still eat while matching the stupid and impossible standards of the next insane designer.

He also used this as an excuse to have Anakin over as often as possible. Training was a great excuse, but claiming Anakin was under a lifestyle review was even better. He was over enough times that Padme started to call Obi-wan every other day just to ensure Anakin was still alive.

“He’s staying over at your house again?” She would ask. Obi-wan could hear the curiosity in her voice.

“Yes. Coaching ran late.” Obi-wan would respond.

And she would hum back in a noncommittal way that let Obi-wan know that any attempt to appear casual to the rest of the world was for not. His little castle, his boring minimalistic apartment, where he was safe to hold and care for the flighty little bird that he happened to catch? It had glass walls now.

Having Anakin over, though, made his apartment feel more like home. He didn’t mind too much that it was obvious when this much warmth came from it. His house started to adopt more color into it. Flowers appeared. Bright blankets covered his sofa. More youthful scents filled his shampoo shelf and pajamas that weren’t his filled his drawers. 

They started to build their lives around each other, even if only for a short time. 

Obi-wan didn’t know why it felt like there was still a limit on their time. He wouldn’t let himself bridge the gap to forever. He wouldn’t let himself think indefinitely. It was easier still for him to assume there was an end. Anakin, meanwhile, kept living as if they had all the time in the world. That level of brazen trust felt odd to be on the receiving end of. But also, quite beautiful.

Anakin made him feel beautiful. But Anakin  _ was  _ beautiful. And that was proven at Anakin’s second runway show, in downtown Coruscant, on a white marble stage covered in the glitter. The room pulsed with the raw fairytale energy that shimmered off of every solid surface. It was a stage fit for a prince. Obi-wan felt, once again, like a sore thumb standing out in this crowd. But Satine, dressed in lace and clinging to his arm, made him feel so much safer.

“He’s going to look so lovely.” Satine ran her nails over Obi-wan’s arm to sooth him. “I can’t believe he said yes to this, though.”

“Well, he does love to put on a show.” He smirked. “He loves to shock.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

He looked at her with confusion. “What’s so different about this show?”

“I saw the concept photos and test makeup. And I’ll go ahead and assume that he’s going to have too much fun.” She led them to their seats, right at the front of the stage, a few rows back so they could see everything. The lights were pulsing in bright pastel colors.

“You know.” He said. “I’ve been...trying to follow some of the advice you’ve given me before.”

“Oh?” She smiled. “Really?”

Before he could say another word to her, the lights started to dim.

A few women walked first. The pattern seemed to be that one would walk, meet in the middle of the runway with the previous model, walk to the end, turn around, and meet the other model in the middle. Then, they would leave and the cycle would continue. 

All the models were dressed in out-of-this-world attire, covered in confetti and glitter and weirdly tight plastic clothes. It was a display of sheer creative wiles, something that Obi-wan never fully understood about fashion. He was a practical man. If it wasn’t wearable on the daily, what was the point? These people looked like dolls, in little rubber outfits that children could chew on. That didn’t get the message of ‘clothing’ along to Obi-wan.

But he could understand the art of it, to an extent. He could see the appeal. If he was younger and wilder, he could maybe even pull it off. 

Anakin was younger and wilder. When he stepped on the runway, Obi-wan had to admit he pulled it off.

His clothes were pink and holographic, skintight, glowing. He himself was covered in glitter. He looked like a disco ball. But also like a fairy. He looked confident, and he was smiling. That was notable of this specific runway show - the models were encouraged to look like themselves. They were encouraged to put on a show. Anakin’s angle seemed to be arrogant and sexy - if it was even an act. He looked like a coked-up Ken doll.

As he started his walk, Obi-wan found himself gripping the arms of his seat. Anakin didn’t trip. He didn’t hesitate. In fact, he was as confident as he was in practice, vaguely murder-y glare and all. Satine covered her mouth in shock, muttering excited little sentences about how proud she was. Obi-wan took note to tell Anakin that later if she forgot to.

Anakin stopped and stood at the center of the runway until the girl ahead of him reconvened with him. She turned around and propped a hand on his shoulder, using him to steady her as she posed on one leg. Then they broke apart and she kissed him on the cheek before continuing on her way and leaving him to make it to the crowd alone. 

Obi-wan had to resist the urge to scoot to the edge of his seat to get a better view. Anakin was floating across the marble stage towards him, closer and closer and closer. When he finally caught Anakin’s eye, there was electricity between them. 

His eyes were heavy-lidded as he looked down at Obi-wan. The glitter scattered across his eyes shimmered with every blink. The closer he could, the more the makeup details stood out. They streaked down his cheeks like tears. The reflective clothing seemed to wink at him with every little twinkle. Then he stopped. And every camera in the room seemed to flash at once. He paused, swaying in place for just a moment before turning around and continuing his walk.

Right before he turned, he winked at Obi-wan. 

He looked down at his lap and exhaled. He didn’t even realize he had stopped breathing. He must look like a mess. 

Satine leaned over and whispered into his ear. “Obi, this show is going to change everything.”

And she was right. 

At the end of the show, while the crowds were all gathering and the photographers were going crazy and Satine was making connections, Obi-wan found himself standing off alone again. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. In fact, it gave him the opportunity to meditate for a moment on the idea of Anakin being on his arm as they left the building. In front of everyone. 

What a pleasant thought.

When everything had cleared out enough, Obi-wan snuck his way to the dressing areas backstage and waited by the door until all the models had left. Then he entered, knowing he would find his favorite inside.

Anakin looked up from the backpack he was packing, shirtless and pantless and still covered in makeup. When he locked eyes with Obi-wan, he grinned. It was the same grin every time. Like a puppy. “Hey! You knew to come get me.”

“I assumed it was tradition now.”

“I certainly would like it to be.”

The room was pink and filled with bright lights, discarded glitter and abandoned socks. Obi-wan walked around it slowly, winding around the mess and grimacing at the grossest parts. “You aren’t dressed yet?”

“The other clothes were so tight that I feel like I have to let myself breathe for a bit.” He chuckled. “Plastic does _ not  _ breathe _.  _ I have a sweatshirt and pants for when we leave, though. I just have to get all this shit off my face first.”

“You did wonderfully.”

He stood up and Obi-wan caught the faint blush of excitement on his chest. “Thanks.” And with just that word, the tension in the room seemed to thicken to the point of fogging up the mirrors.

“I miss shooting with you. Like a proper shoot.” Obi-wan sighed. His eyes trailed over the spilled makeup on the counter. “Can I have you in my studio soon?” His tone implied a few different things.

“Oh, yes please.” Anakin nodded. “When I say I’m an ‘actor’, I mean behind a screen. This stage stuff is getting a little intense for me.”

“It’s only uphill from here.” He turned around and slipped off his suit coat. “Especially the way you looked tonight. That will have got everyone’s attention.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Something like that.”

He continued to weave through the mess. “How hungry are you?”

“Why?”

Obi-wan looked at Anakin through one of the dressing room mirrors. His eyes caught on Anakin’s collarbones. “I...I was hoping we could stay a moment.”

“Oh. Yeah. Cool.” Anakin nodded. “Sure.”

“And we’ll be alone for a while?” He turned and walked towards the other man.

“Technically I don’t have to leave for an hour and a half. And everyone else is gone to the afterparty. But I don’t really like parties.”

Obi-wan stopped in front of Anakin. “So we have privacy.”

Something about those words said in that tone made Anakin’s eyes widen. It was finally starting to click. He leaned forward and kissed Obi-wan, but before he could go too deeply Obi-wan pulled away and walked towards one of the cleaner corners of the room. Anakin followed. 

Obi-wan stopped walking, and Anakin did too, a few feet away. “You taste like foundation.”

“You don’t like it?”

“No. It tastes like plastic.” He smiled.

“That’s fair.” Anakin rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Plus you don’t need it.”

“Why?”

“You’re beautiful.” Obi-wan said, motioning Anakin closer. When he was within arm’s reach, he pulled Anakin in and trapped him between Obi-wan and the pink wall. Anakin seemed to match the wall, with all the glitter on him, and the image was perfect for a magazine cover. Obi-wan noted that for later.

“That’s a lot of makeup, dear one.” He said, bringing his hand to caress his cheek and neck.

“I kind of like the sparkle.” Anakin shrugged.

“The sparkle suits you.”

Anakin blushed. “The makeup artist said my tan made it look good.”

“She was right.” 

Obi-wan dragged his finger across Anakin’s cheek and smeared a chunk of glitter gel down to his lip. His thumb moved across the lipgloss, smearing the pale pink color off his lip. Anakin’s lips parted instinctively, welcoming Obi-wan’s thumb onto his tongue and into his mouth. He started to swirl his tongue around it. As he did so, Obi-wan hooked his thumb into Anakin’s bottom jaw and pulled him closer with it.

“You liked all those people watching you?” His voice rang low.

Anakin nodded.

“No one but me is watching you now.” A growl escaped his throat. “So how are you going to pose?”

Anakin slid down to the ground until he was on his knees, looking up with his big blue eyes. His jaw was slack, lips parted, as he reached up with both of his hands to hook his thumbs onto the belt loops of Obi-wan’s pants. He arched his back and lowered himself further to the ground just to ensure his ass was sticking out just enough for Obi-wan to see it even when he started to nose his ever-growing bulge through the front of his pants. As he did so, small specks of glitter were left on the fabric.

Obi-wan wanted to see where else the glitter could get stuck. 

He let Anakin toy with the front of his pants until his patience ran thin and he unzipped the front of them to let Anakin lap and palm at his cock through his boxers. Anakin’s tongue was warm, inviting, and Obi-wan had to decide quickly if he wanted to finish all over Anakin’s holographic face or go somewhere much further.

As soon as Anakin’s hands slipped under Obi-wan’s slit in his underwear, he knew what he really wanted. He used Anakin’s hair to pull him away and up into a standing position again. He wasn’t rough, but he was firm enough to leave Anakin completely at his disposal. Anakin was weak to his calm power, his unwavering composition. A dangerous and seductive repose.

Obi-wan pushed Anakin against the wall, moving his leg so the other man could straddle it. He ran his hands up and down Anakin’s bare sides. He dug his thumbs into his ribcage and his lip at the sound that escaped Anakin’s mouth. He leaned in close. “I know it’s not in your’s or my best interest, but I want to fuck you here in this dressing room.” He whispered into Anakin’s ear while fighting with the waistband of Anakin’s underwear.

Conflicted feelings washed over Anakin’s face. “I thought you said to wait for the right time. Why is the right time here?”

“Because you look like you’re from another planet and I genuinely don’t know if I have enough control to stop myself from wanting to shatter you.” He started to kiss along Anakin’s neck. He slipped down Anakin’s underwear down to his knees and grabbed his ass with both of his large hands. He paused for a moment. “Are you...wearing body oil?”

Anakin nodded, his face turned away. “The director made us. It’s full of body glitter.” He hissed out.

“Lovely.”

“Hard to clean off.” He says. 

“Let me help with that, then.” Obi-wan pushed Anakin against the wall again and Anakin let out a small gasp that only encouraged Obi-wan to go harder, fiercer. There was a desperation in that man, and he wasn’t afraid to act on it anymore. The glitter on Anakin’s skin and the hairspray in his hair called out  _ yes, yes, yes _ and Obi-wan listened. His hands danced downwards, one supporting Anakin’s thigh and the other starting to tease his entrance.

Anakin rut back into his hand, gasping and clawing at Obi-wan. He left marks up and down Obi-wan’s skin, red on white, sharp and painful and invigorating. The nails dug deeper as Obi-wan’s finger pressed into Anakin’s hole, using the residue of the glittery body oil to ease the process. It wasn’t enough, and Anakin hissed as the pressure filled his entire body. He went limp in Obi-wan’s arm as he accepted the pain, panting and throwing his head back as the first knuckle filled him.

“Lube. We need lube.” Anakin struggled out. 

Obi-wan looked around the dressing room, perking up when he saw a residual bottle of the body oil. He pulled his finger out and broke away, letting Anakin slide down the wall to land on unsteady feet. After acquiring the lube, he walked himself over to a chair nearby and slicked his hand while becaning Anakin over. He situated his legs to make a steady surface for him to sit on. Once Anakin perched himself on his legs, Obi-wan reached behind him and wasted no time circling his hole slowly and deliberately. 

Anakin shifted around until he forced Obi-wan’s finger halfway inside of him. “Is glitter safe to...you know.”

“You know?”

“Go up there?”

Obi-wan couldn’t hold back his chuckles. “Don’t focus on that. Focus on the feeling. I can help you with anything after.”

“Put another in, then.” Anakin circled his hips and bounced a little.

“Patience.” He said, his tone low. His face looked still and composed, but his brain was screaming and trying to memorize the way Anakin’s lips parted as he touched all the flexing muscles of his entrance. Eventually, he did add a second finger. He scissored them until Anakin’s body gave way, and then he inserted a third finger and spread him until his cheeks and chest were flushed bright pink.

Obi-wan kept him like this, impaled on three fingers, until Anakin’s voice pierced through his moans. “Please, please. Obi-wan...fuck, just fuck me already. I’ve been waiting for this for  _ weeks!”  _ He wiggled his hips impatiently. “I’ve thought about this everytime I fuck myself in the shower. I’ve needed this. I can’t stop, Obi-wan, I need you.”

Obi-wan was frozen for a moment. Those words short-circuited his brain. When the sparks in front of his eyes cleared, he pulled his fingers out one by one and opened his boxers to pull out his member. When he did, Anakin looked down at it and stared. Obi-wan felt like a teenager on display. “What is it? You’re staring, darling.” 

“I just...It’s like...thick. Thicker than I expected.” He shook his head and laughed. “Sorry, I sound so stupid. I’m not, like, a virgin. I’m not. I just haven’t seen a dick like that outside of porn. Which is a compliment! And I just-”

“You’re rambling.” He cocked an eyebrow.

“Sorry.” Anakin said. He leaned forward and kissed Obi-wan, their tongues brushing each other, before pulling away and putting his hands on Obi-wan’s shoulders. “Let me guide it, okay?”

He nodded. And Anakin did what he needed to do. He slowly lowered himself, guiding Obi-wan’s cock with one hand and steadying himself with the other. Obi-wan watched his face twist up in a mixture of pain and pleasure. And then he sat there, mouth agape, eyes squeezed shut as he stretched himself around Obi-wan.

It took all of Obi-wan’s self-control to not twitch his hips. “You’re taking me so well, Anakin.” He said, brushing a lock of hair behind Anakin’s ear. He shivered at the touch. “Take your time.”

“Keep talking.” Anakin hissed out through gritted teeth. “Keep talking and start slow. Fuck, Obi-wan…”

“You want me to talk?” Obi-wan leaned in a bit until he could breathe right into Anakin’s ear. “You want me to keep telling you how good you are at what you do? At how good you are when you take me like this?”

Anakin nodded and raised himself up so he could lower himself down again. He winced as he did so, but his cock twitched against his stomach. As he repeated the motion again, Obi-wan started to speak again. “Just like that. You know how. Do it how you like it, darling.” 

He lifted his hips to match Anakin’s movements, speeding up only when Anakin did so himself. “Look at you.” He said, his own breathing picking up. He raised a hand up to cup his cheek. “I love the way you look when you’re lost to pleasure. Keep going. Don’t stop, not for anything.”

“Obi-wan-” He started to speed up.

“Don’t stop.”

Their voices interwove in the air, louder and louder as Anakin rocked back and forth and bounced up and down, swirling his hips and desperately rutting to get any and all feeling that he possibly could.

Obi-wan set his hands on Anakin’s hips and dug his nails into his skin, slamming their hips together. “You ride me so well, darling, you feel so good around me-”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-”

“Look at you, you’re so beautiful. You’re so damn beautiful. You look like an angel with all that glitter, Anakin, you’re my little angel-”

“Holy fuck, Obi-wan, holy fucking shit-”

“Keep riding me, Anakin. Don’t fucking stop. I want you to come from my cock.” He leaned forward and bit hard into Anakin’s collarbones. He nipped and sucked and drew scream after scream from Anakin’s sweaty body.

“Hurry, hurry, you first, hurry-” Anakin was cut off by the feeling of Obi-wan’s hips stuttering. Obi-wan shut his eyes and let out a low growl as he filled Anakin with his cum. And screaming, Anakin followed in suit, pushed over the edge by the liquid heat inside of him.

Anakin covered his own stomach in white strands, catching all the way up to his chest. Obi-wan could feel his own warm cum around his softening cock, dripping out of Anakin’s entrance and down his thighs. Anakin whined, loud and oversensitive and uninhibited, before falling forward to meet Obi-wan’s forehead with his own.

With their foreheads pressed together, they sat panting hard, all thick hot breath and burning skin. Their eyes met, dazed, and they stayed embraced together in a syrupy warmth as both of them returned to their bodies.

“Holy shit.” Anakin managed out.

Obi-wan laughed in an exhausted manner and brushed his nose against Anakin’s.

“I’m serious. Just - holy shit.” He said again.

As they became humans again, the feeling of bliss turned into a feeling of sticky skin, sore legs and vague headaches. Cleaning up was awkward - in the sense that they didn’t have much time or resources to make themselves presentable. Anakin used a makeup wipe to clean his face and also his cum.

It was a silent understanding that Anakin would be joining Obi-wan again that night. No one objected to this. The two men gathered their things, straightened themselves up, and left the building hand in hand, exiting into the dark night together.

A part of Obi-wan felt content that this could last forever.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't wait for the rest of this story, I have a lot of cute stuffed planned and I'm very excited. Plus this is getting me in the grove for a few other different AU ideas I have (because I live and die by them).


	4. Chapter 4

_ “The camera is an excuse to be someplace you otherwise don’t belong. It gives me both a point of connection and a point of separation.” _

— Susan Meiselas

Developing film has a few steps. Obi-wan learned them all in college, of course. And while he didn’t shoot with film anymore, he still had all the steps memorized. If you’re doing it at your own home, you will need a few supplies: a tank, reels, clips, thermometers, measuring cups and bottles and a changing bag. But once those are at your disposal, the process is easy. You mix your developer and you mix your fixer. You load the film with water. You run your film through bath after bath - all while avoiding light, of course. But then you let it set, and it slowly starts to look like the image it was always meant to be. From darkness comes the light.

Anakin, standing on the doorstep hugging his mother in the autumn breeze, was like that film. Yes, Anakin was lovely when he was posing. But he was an award-winning image standing here with a giant grin on his face as his mother smoothed his hair and adjusted his jacket and cooed over him. His darkness was her light. Obi-wan couldn’t catch her words over the bloodrush in his ears, but he pulled himself together and smiled when she finally turned to him.

“Mom.” Anakin cleared his throat and guided her over to Obi-wan. “This is Obi-wan Kenobi.”

She started beaming, and reached out to hug Obi-wan without any hesitation. “Oh, you’re the photographer!” She squeezed him tight and pulled away, her hands moving over his chest to adjust his jacket and fix his collar. “It’s so wonderful to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you from my little Ani.”

“Mom…” Anakin hissed. His face was quickly flushing.

“What? It’s true! I feel like I already know you, Mr. Kenobi. I’m Shmi. Please! Come in!” She motioned both the men inside and helped them with their coats.

The inside of the house smelled of fresh baked bread and sweet flowers. It was small, one story, but bright and full of life. Soft music played from the back of the house. Art obviously left over from Anakin’s childhood covered the yellow walls. Anakin followed his mother to the kitchen without a second thought, and Obi-wan took off his shoes by the door then immediately went to get a closer look at all the little drawings. After smirking over a shoddy drawing of a cat-dog-bunny thing, Obi-wan joined the two in the back of the house in the kitchen.

“I hope you aren’t on one of those fancy gluten-free Coruscant diets, Mr. Kenobi!” Shmi said as she floated around and moved plates to the table. “I forgot to ask Ani if you were.”

“He’s not.” Anakin answered for him, shifting through mail sitting on the counter.

“Fabulous.” She flashed Obi-wan a smile. “Because we’re having cozonac for dessert.”

“Oh, hell yes!” Anakin cried. He turned to Obi-wan. “You will  _ love it.” _

Obi-wan still stood in the doorway. The back and forth, the hustle and bustle, made it impossible for him to stop smiling. When they were all at the table, the smiling continued. And so did the banter and motherly dances of hair-fixing and mouth-cleaning. Obi-wan wasn’t immune to this treatment, either. His plate couldn’t stay empty. His hair was consistently pushed back. And Shmi couldn’t be silenced when it came to questions about Obi-wan.

“You two have been working together for a while.” She said, leaning over on her arms. “You really have a talent, Mr. Kenobi.”

“Please, call me Obi-wan.” He said. His eyes fluttered to Anakin’s. “And your son is the talented one here. He really has changed the game for myself and many others.”

She was glowing. “He’s amazing, isn’t he?” Anakin rolled his eyes but she nudged him. “Ani’s been amazing ever since he was little. I knew he was going to do big things. When he called me and told me all about getting signed, I just…” She sighed wistfully. “I’m just so proud.”

“You should be.” Obi-wan looked over at Anakin again and smirked. “I know I am.”

Anakin hid the blush on his face by shoving mici down his throat. 

Obi-wan helped the two Skywalkers clean up after the meal. They resisted, naturally, but Obi-wan insisted. It’s the least he could do after enjoying a meal that exquisite. Shmi was a born chef. “That was better than any meal I’ve eaten in Coruscant.” He had told her. She had hugged him in response. Over her shoulder, Obi-wan caught Anakin’s eye. He winked, making Anakin blush again.

Shmi offered for them to stay the night, but Anakin refused. “Not everyone I know needs to see my high school room.” He shook his room. “Definitely not.”

“I’m sure Obi-wan would-”

“And we have a shoot!” Anakin cried. “In the morning. Right?” He pleaded for aid with his giant eyes.

Obi-wan was fighting the urge to laugh and pinch his cheeks. “Yes, yes. A small one but an important one.” He walked over and placed a hand on Anakin’s waist. Shmi watched him do so with eagle eyes. “It would be more conducive to have us both close to the city, sadly. But next time, I would love to stay and see the horrors of Anakin’s room.” 

Anakin smacked Obi-wan’s chest and rolled his eyes. “Whatever. We should go.” He pulled away from Obi-wan and wrapped up his mother in his arms. He buried his face in her shoulder. And for a moment, he was a teenager again. After a moment longer than any other hug, he pulled away. “I love you, mom.”

“I love you too, Ani.” She squeezed his shoulders and then turned to hug Obi-wan. She was so small compared to him, and to Anakin. A fragile mother bird. When she hugged Obi-wan, she perched on her toes and leaned up to whisper in his ear. “Take care of him, Mr. Kenobi.” She squeezed him extra tightly and then let go.

The ride back to Coruscant was long and calming. The silence of the night, the purring of the car and the breathing of Anakin dozing off in the passenger seat of the rental SVU. The darkness was perfect for processing the picturesque family life that Obi-wan just walked through. He wandered into a Norman Rockwell painting and revelled in it. 

He was more sure every single day that Anakin was too good to be in his arms. As he looked over and let his eyes caress the contours of Anakin’s resting face, he couldn’t help but smile. A phantom pain echoed in his ribs. He turned his eyes back to the road and imagined having a house like that with Anakin, where Shmi could visit  _ them.  _ And  _ they _ could offer  _ her  _ their guest room, and  _ they _ could make  _ her _ traditional food. They could have a dog, and they could celebrate Christmas, and they could have Satine and Padme over for dinner parties.

Obi-wan parked outside of Anakin’s townhome before shaking the younger man awake. Padme was gone for the weekend, allowing Anakin the rare confidence to invite Obi-wan into his space. And Obi-wan would take advantage of it as much as he could.

The rainbow Christmas lights glowed above them, a sky of kaleidoscopic stars reflecting in Anakin’s eyes as he sat straddled on Obi-wan’s lap as they both sat on his bed. He ran his fingers over Obi-wan’s beard and through his hair. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he couldn’t bring himself to break the silence. Obi-wan leaned in close and kissed Anakin’s nose, cheeks, forehead and - finally - his lips. When he pulled away, Anakin kept his eyes shut. “Obi-wan?” He asked, his voice barely there. “Don’t get scared when I say this but I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

“Why would that scare me?”

“The word ‘forever.” He said. He opened his eyes slowly. “You said you were a Capricorn, right?”

Obi-wan chuckled and squeezed Anakin’s waist. “You and that astrology stuff.”

“It means something! Padme agrees with me!”

“When Padme gets back from her trip, I’ll be sure to talk to her about the complexities of the stars.” He leaned in and kissed along Anakin’s jaw. “I’m sure she’ll have plenty to tell me.”

“I’m a Leo. So you being a Capricorn is a big deal.” He said, leaning into the feeling. 

“I’ll make sure I learn why it’s a big deal.” Obi-wan squeezed him closer. “Now let’s lie down.” He guided Anakin by his hips down onto the bed. He lay down next to him and pulled him close until their chests were pressed together and their hearts beat together. Anakin buried his face in Obi-wan’s neck, letting out small noises of contentment. 

These were the moments that made Obi-wan feel like a completely different man.

“Why does it matter that I’m a Capricorn?” He said.

Anakin nuzzled his neck. “Because you’re an earth sign. And I’m a fire sign. So we’re pretty hard to mix - but when we  _ do  _ mix, it’s perfect. Does that make sense?”

Obi-wan nodded. “Yes. Yes, it does.”

Anakin fell asleep long before him, as was the standard now. Obi-wan ran his nails over Anakin’s scalp and hummed along to his steady breathing. His beauty was fully on display for Obi-wan as he rested. He was relaxed, unguarded. It was the only time that Obi-wan saw Anakin’s body in its purest state - loving. And open. And welcome to the world. 

Obi-wan saw the performer inside Anakin. He was the one guiding the ship. The performer was the one that did the work. Everyone knew the performer. But this Anakin - sweet Anakin - was all Obi-wan’s.

The Anakin at his mother’s house was Obi-wan’s. And the Anakin here was. And the Anakin that shifted around in the middle of the night to cling to his chest was his. His little breaths were his. His smile was his. His heart was his.

And that meant Obi-wan had to admit that he could have someone.

That thought got easier by the minute, which both terrified yet invigorated him. 

The feeling of that, though, was nothing compared to the adrenaline shot through his veins when Satine sat them both down and slid her iPad across the table. “Anakin. Obi. I need you both to read this extremely careful. And please don’t drop my little tablet out of shock, alright?”

The two men shared a look and then leaned down to look at the screen. Anakin got frustrated trying to read after a bit and leaned back in his chair. “Can you just tell me what it says?” He muttered.

Obi-wan nodded back and held up his hand to stop Anakin from speaking. The words ‘Paris’ and ‘runway’ and ‘once in a lifetime event’ ran circles in his mind, and the page in front of him swam and rippled. He felt his heart starting to race a bit. He was worried for a moment that he would need to see a doctor.

He read the email twice over before Anakin poked his side. “What does it say?”

Obi-wan sat back in his seat. “I just...Satine, I need you to clarify before I have to go take an antacid.”

“Anakin has been invited to walk at Paris Fashion Week by the label from his last show.” She said each word like it carried the weight of the galaxy.

“Paris Fashion Week...” Obi-wan’s eyebrows shot up. “I have no words.” He really did need that antacid.

“Fashion Week?” Anakin leaned forward in his chair. “Holy shit…” His eyes seemed to glaze over as he slipped into deep thought. “Paris? Fuck. I haven’t even ever left the country before. Should I get a passport?”

“The agency can help you handle that.” Satine crossed her legs. “And I’ll work on the logistics as well. But before any of that, I need your consent.” She motioned at Anakin. “This is a major commitment and I didn’t want to put words in your mouth. And then…” She motioned at Obi-wan next. “I want you to shoot him in Paris. The entire time. I want you to be his shadow. And I needed your consent for that as well.”

“Why?” Anakin frowned. “Why do you need my ‘consent’?”

Satine pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Because this kind of event will take you from Anakin Skywalker to a household name. You’ll go from a casual model to a  _ Model _ , with a capital  _ M _ .” 

Obi-wan sighed. “I have to agree. This will...completely change your life.” He thought of Shmi in that little home. Then, it started to change. He imagined her in the yard of a mansion, planting roses. Maybe sipping lavender lemonade. R2 running around at her feet, as Anakin walked out of the gaudy front door in just pastel skinny jeans to kiss her cheek and hand her a refill.

It was beautiful. Obi-wan turned his head and looked at Anakin. His future was beautiful.

Anakin’s face burned with a determined glow. He took three deep breaths. He pulled his hair back into a little ponytail, an auburn sprout, and then leaned forward. “Where do I sign? What do I do?”

Obi-wan had no idea what Anakin saw in his mind to pull this determination out from his soul. But that determination was the reason Obi-wan decided that Anakin needed to never leave his side, ever again.

He went to a jewelry store the next day. He walked right past the rings - mainly because he wasn’t an insane idiot - but he walked over to the next best thing. Necklaces. Small little chains, varying colors and metals and details. 

Dainty things. Simple things.

Something perfect and classical and comfortable for Obi-wan’s next step. Anakin’s next step. Their next step.

Oh, stars. Their. Their, their, their.

He found the perfect item after nearly an hour of overly-picky perusing: a small gold chain with a tiny little Leo zodiac symbol delicately placed in the center of the chain. It was stunning, eye-catching - and yet, unassuming. Hidden on the back of the shelf. An underdog. And Obi-wan  _ adored  _ an underdog, even with a price tag that daunting. 

The dollars couldn’t compare to Anakin’s priceless excitement at being able to go to Paris. And the priceless expression that would be on his face when he saw his gift.

Obi-wan went to hand-deliver it the next day. He spent the entire evening practicing how he would present the gift, until he finally sat down. Sense was needed. Rational was needed. Practicing wasn’t Anakin’s style - and so he would do this like Anakin. With determination.

So Obi-wan knocked on his door with determination.

Anakin opened up a few moments later. “Hey!” He beamed. “I thought we weren’t meeting up until tonight. What’s up?”

“Can we talk?” Obi-wan asked.

Anakin nodded. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, come in.” He backed up and let the other man in. When Obi-wan stepped in, Anakin leaned in to pull his jacket off. “Let me get that. I hate how much it’s been raining recently.” He grinned. “I’m more of a sunshine guy.”

Obi-wan laughed, and then froze. “Is that…” He turned around. He leaned in towards Anakin and took a deep breath. “Is that my body wash that I smell?”

Anakin stepped back and laughed sheepishly. “Yeah, well...it’s nice to smell you when I miss you. Is that weird?”

“To some, it could be.” Obi-wan followed Anakin as he stepped back. He traced his eyes upwards along Anakin’s face. His scar was a bit irritated today. “But to me, I find it endearing in the unusual and odd way that you are.”

“Usual and odd aren’t usually compliments. But I think you can make anything sound nice.” Anakin bit his lip. “It must be the accent.”

Obi-wan hummed in amusement. “Well, let’s sit on the couch then. Come on.” 

Anakin led him to the middle floor of his townhome, R2 chasing both of their feet behind them. As Obi-wan settled on the couch, with the necklace box burning a hole through his bag, Anakin brought them lemonade. He set both glasses on the coffee table covered in Padme’s magazines, then sat with one leg up on the couch next to Obi-wan.

“Okay.” Anakin said, wiggling into his spot. “What’s up?”

“I got you something.” Obi-wan said. “Is that alright?”

Anakin blinked. “What?”

“I bought you a gift. Can I give it to you now?”

He nodded, still a bit in disbelief. “Yeah, yeah. Sure.” He scooted to the edge of his cushion. “But you know you didn’t have to get me anything, right?”

Obi-wan chuckled to himself and dug into his computer bag. “Don’t start that with me now.”

“Should I close my eyes?” He laughed nervously.

He nodded, and Anakin shut his eyes and held out his hands. After the box was placed in his hands, he didn’t wait for any affirmations. He just shot open his eyes and looked down expectantly. “Um…”

“Here.” Obi-wan reached over and opened up the box. “Look.”

Silence overtook the room as Anakin’s brain tried to process what was before him. He pulled out the necklace, cradling it in his hands and staring at it like it was the most fragile thing in the galaxy. “Obi-wan…” He trailed off. “How expensive was this?”

“That’s the last thing I want you to worry about. It’s a gift.” He said. “To congratulate you.” He put the box down on the couch.

Anakin held it closer to his face and his eyes got wide. “Is that...Is that the Leo symbol?” He looked at Obi-wan. “But I thought you didn’t care about that stuff?”

“It’s important to you.” He shrugged. “Let me put it on you now, come on.” He motioned Anakin closer and clasped the small gold chain around his neck as he sat behind him. It laid delicately along his collarbones and curved against his skin like it was painted there centuries ago. “Lovely.” Obi-wan said. 

Anakin touched it with his hand. His brain seemed to be trying to catch up with his mouth. “I...thank you. Holy shit.” His hand tightened around the base of his own neck. “I...I literally can’t form words.” He laughed breathlessly and shook his head. He turned around so he was face to face with Obi-wan again. “Holy fuck. Thank you, Obi-wan.”

“No need to thank me. It’s my pleasure.” Obi-wan placed his hands on Anakin’s sides. “I adore you.”

Anakin’s face was soft. Vulnerable. And when he fluttered his eyes shut and leaned in to offer a chaste kiss to Obi-wan, he took it. He cupped both of Obi-wan’s cheeks in his hands and pressed their foreheads together. “Thank you.” Anakin muttered against Obi-wan’s lips. He kissed him again.

And again. And again. And it took hours for them to peel themselves off of each other and off of the couch. And it took days for Anakin to take the necklace off. The only reason Obi-wan ended up seeing his bare neck was all thanks to a late-night photoshoot towards the end of his day weeks later.

He saw more than just his bare neck, though.

The build-up to the shoot was like any other. Anakin was going to shoot for a magazine spread. Padme was shooting the hour before him and Mace was directing both shoots. Satine wasn’t present, but her influence was and Obi-wan was drowning in her instructions as him and Mace browsed the packets she had sent them both.

Once both the lady models and Anakin both disappeared to change, Mace paced the set. “I heard about Skywalker. Congrats.”

Obi-wan opened his computer bag and started to set up his laptop. “We’re all extremely proud.”

“I’m sure you are.”

From behind them, doors open and feet scurried. “Mr. Windu! Mr. Kenobi! Can you come do a makeup check on Mr. Skywalker?”

“Is he dressed?” Obi-wan asked over his shoulder.

“Yes, sir! Just turn around real fast.”

Obi-wan spit up his water and choked the moment he saw Anakin.

He was dressed in lingerie. In theory, that shouldn’t have been a surprise - that was the point of the shoot, after all. But he wasn’t in pants. Or maybe some kind of masculine ensemble. He was in blush pink women’s lingerie, lacey and tight. He was in a pair of panties, large enough to cover his manhood completely and respectfully, and thigh highs with a matching garter belt. He was in heels as well.

Obi-wan remembered that the designer had a particular vision. It was about blurring the lines between feminine and masuline. It was a call to aesthetics, in however the buyer would take that. 

“He was chosen for his face.” Obi-wan remembered Satine saying. “His cheekbones and his eyes.”

He could see it. Anakin’s eyes were angelic. His face was structured like a marble statue - David himself would be envious. Anakin’s lips were full, his skin bright, his hair soft. Blurring the lines between feminine masculinity and masculine femininity seemed like a viable task for him.

That didn’t mean, though, that Obi-wan had to stop himself from staring.

Anakin did a twirl and laughed at himself. He shook his head, incredulous. “I look insane. I fucking love it, though. Look at me!” He raised his arms off and cocked his hip. Light bounced off of the lacey edge of the stockings. “Just look at this shit.”

Obi-wan did. Obi-wan  _ looked.  _

How would he survive this shoot? The stars only know.

The other three female models came out a few minutes later, and Padme returned bundled up in her sweater with her face free of makeup. She stopped to cover her mouth in shock when she came in. She couldn’t hold back her laughter as Anakin started to attempt a sexy dance in the lingerie. “What, Padme, do you have something to say?” He cried.

She just shook her head and doubled over with her laughter. The other models were giggling too. Anakin was the life of the party.

Obi-wan drank some ice water and loosened his belt before getting his camera ready to shoot. 

The serious photos they needed were harder to get than Obi-wan expected. Anakin kept cracking jokes and making all the models giggle. That was his  _ it  _ for the day. It was flirty, and funny, and fully present in the wildest way. His poses were overly feminine in a parodic way. His poses were unconventional and the girls were following suit. Obi-wan tried to guide them, and Mace tried as well, but it was for not. Anakin had an influence. He was winning.

And Obi-wan knew he was losing. He knew he was losing as soon as Anakin bent over and looked through his own legs at the camera, the lingerie gripping every single curve of his ass and thighs. He made a goofy face, and the girls posed around him. One even slid under him to mime kissing him as he was bent over. 

The photos could easily be found on a porn site. Obi-wan didn’t know how he felt about that from a professional perspective. Nothing was explicit - visually. But Obi-wan’s thoughts certainly were.

Mace was completely in awe - for better or for worse. “Well, Kenobi. It looks like Paris is going to have its hands full.”

“Apparently.”

Anakin met him outside of the studio, waving the other models goodbye before kissing Obi-wan on the cheek. “Sorry I took so long. I stayed back in the dressing room for a bit and took some phone photos.” He smirked. “You know how it is.” 

Oh, Obi-wan definitely knew how it was.

After piling into a taxi, Obi-wan made himself comfortable looking out the window. It was the best way to keep himself under control. The urge to kiss and touch and get a bit  _ too close  _ was itching in his limbs. And he was smarter than that. More mature than that. 

At his point, everything was Anakin’s. At least he could still have his maturity.

Until Anakin took that away too.

Anakin reached over and squeezed Obi-wan’s knee back. Obi-wan caught his eye, and Anakin winked. He squeezed again. The second time, he used his nails. The third, he tugged on the fabric of his pants. Obi-wan just kept his eyes forward. And he just prayed that the growing bulge in his lap was easily hidden by the edges of his suit jacket.

Meanwhile, Anakin looked very proud of himself. His smile was just a bit too smug. It dissolved completely when Obi-wan subtly turned his hand to dig his thumbnail deep into Anakin’s hipbone. He jolted to sit up straight. He turned his head and looked at Obi-wan with wide eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Obi-wan said, his face a perfect illusion of innocence. “Are you getting car sick?” He dug his nail in again.,

Anakin turned red and whipped his gaze away. “I’m fine.” He said tensely.

Silence passed between them. Obi-wan was smug. But he could be  _ more  _ satisfied. He could be more content. And Anakin could be a bit more spent. He glanced up and let his eyes track the map of the cab driver. They still had about thirty minutes until Obi-wan’s apartment building would appear in the distance. Obi-wan leaned forward and pushed up the tinted partition between them and the driver. He leaned back in his seat, then stretched his arm over Anakin’s shoulders. He gripped him firmly - not tight, but assured enough that Anakin was already starting to melt in his hands.

“Darling.” Obi-wan spoke in a low voice. “You looked quite wonderful during your shoot today.”

Anakin was leaning on his chest now. Their legs were pressed together. “Obi-wan, this is a  _ taxi.” _

“You were the one being so bold.” He chuckled. “Were you just teasing?” He stared Anakin down, eye to eye.

Anakin didn’t falter, but he was starting to slowly turn bright red. His freckles were glowing against his flush. “I’m not teasing.”

“And I’m not going to do anything lewd in this taxi.” Obi-wan leaned down and kissed Anakin’s cheek. “I just wanted to give us some privacy for a moment. I think I’ve earned it.” He breathed in the lemon scent that lingered over his skin. “Because you  _ were  _ teasing, Anakin. You were teasing a lot today. And it was very unfair.”

Anakin pulled away far enough to look up and pout. “The shoot today was-”

“Exciting?”

“-put me in the mood.” Anakin finished. The two men cocked their heads in unison and Anakin ended up laughing and pulling out of his embrace. “I’m not going to lie, alright? The lingerie was fun. And it was funny as shit to see the look on your face.” He elbowed the other in the ribs.

Obi-wan rolled his eyes. “I’m glad I was amusing.”

“Was I  _ amusing?”  _ The glint in his eye said everything he needed to know.

Obi-wan reached over and took Anakin into his arms again. “If ‘amusing’ has suddenly become a synonym for _‘_ delicious’ then you would be correct.” He leaned in close and kissed Anakin’s ear. “Or is that too dumb for me to say?”

He shook his head. “Not dumb. A little old-fashioned though. Kind of  _ 90210  _ of you. But I like it.” He smiled. “I like that about you.”

Obi-wan fell silent for a moment. The sound of the taxi speeding along the highway filled their void for noise. The bumping of the tires substituted their movements. After too long of staring at Anakin’s open, vulnerable grin, Obi-wan spoke in a quiet and fragile voice. “What else do you like about me?”

Anakin’s smile slipped. The youth of his tone shocked him. “Um…Well, I love your energy. I know you make fun of me when I talk about that stuff, but really. Your vibe is really good. You’re safe. You feel safe. And you feel warm.”

“And?”

“You smell like books. And the cranberry soap that Target puts out every Christmas.”

Obi-wan wrapped his arm tight around Anakin and pulled him closer. “And?”

Anakin leaned in without any hesitation. “You make me smile.”

Obi-wan leaned in and kissed him. And didn’t stop until they reached Obi-wan’s home.

They walked inside, set their things aside, and then Obi-wan finally caved. He took a deep breath. He inhaled his confidence and exhaled his fears. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

Anakin paused hanging his jacket. “What?” He looked like he had been shot.

“A date. With me.”

“For real?” He sounded so skeptical.

Obi-wan nodded. “I was thinking in Paris. Me and you. A nice dinner. Maybe some fun sight-seeing. I’ve been around the city before, I could show you some places. But a date. A proper, real date.”

The longer his proposition went unanswered, the more desperate Obi-wan felt. Icy doubt was leaking down his spine. He was fidgeting his thumbs. But Anakin only stared dumbly at him, jaw slack. It was like all the life had been sucked out of him.

Obi-wan shook his head. “Well, maybe I-”

“Yes please.” Anakin said, a bit too quick and a bit too loud. He smiled despite himself and shook his head. “Sorry. Just...yes. That sounds great.” He stepped a bit closer and reached out to take Obi-wan’s hand. “It’ll be cool.”

“Very.” Obi-wan squeezed it. 

“What’s my prize?” Anakin smirked.

He blinked. “...What?”

“What’s my prize? For winning the date?” He wrapped his arms around Obi-wan’s shoulders. “Because I want a prize. I finally won.”

Obi-wan’s thumbs slipped under Anakin’s pajama shirt, where he rubbed gentle circles on the man’s side. “Is the date not enough of a prize?”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “I want a kiss.” 

Obi-wan would have been annoyed if it wasn’t for Anakin’s adorable grin. He leaned in and kissed him, pulling away just as quickly. “Like that?”

“No. Like this.” And he leaned in to slip his tongue into Obi-wan’s mouth. Obi-wan smiled against it, chucking to himself while responding just as enthusiastically. The grip they had on each other tightened, and now would never loosen.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit of a transitional one, which meant it was super hard for me to write. But I hope you all appreciate it anyway!

**Author's Note:**

> My Tumblr is des-nuages-de-paris if you all want more!


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